


The Guy Next Door

by pigeonanarchy



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Sasha James, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Monster Jonathan Sims, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trans Martin Blackwood, Trans Sasha James, also jon is ace like in canon, but theyre canon in my heart, except he's pretty alright, he's doing his best, he/him nonbinary jon, jonny sims do not interact, not sure if all of these will show up in the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 56,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonanarchy/pseuds/pigeonanarchy
Summary: Sasha James, the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute found a box with a single tape labelled "CRITICAL" on her first day of work. It had a message from Gertrude Robinson regarding her position.
Relationships: Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 1663
Kudos: 1392





	1. [Thursday part 1] sometimes a mysterious stranger is something that can be so personal

**Author's Note:**

> I have the power of italics and god on my side  
> Ignore the timeline because I changed how long Martin was trapped for but didn’t bother to change any dates based on that. Everything happens on slightly different days, it doesn’t matter, thank you for your patience.  
> Updates’ll probably be sporadic and random at best, so I apologize for that in advance. Anyways, story!

_ He didn’t fall, or fly, or take-off. There wasn’t anything in the sky that took him. It wasn’t a hand that reached out and grabbed him, it was the sky itself, the whole sky, as far as the horizon I could see, that twisted around and moved like… like the shifting of sand. It ate Robert. That’s the only way I can describe it. Please don’t make me do so again. _

“Statement ends,” Sasha sighed, glancing back over the paper as if she expected the words to rearrange somehow into nice, neat answers to all of her questions. They didn’t, of course, and with a mildly resigned air she gave in to the fact that, yet again, she would have to figure out what she could herself.

“Firstly, I suppose, I should present what facts we managed to find in our follow-up. Martin managed to track down a couple of news articles that mentioned Open Skydiving in passing, but no other proof that it had ever existed. I checked entries for the licences such a school would require, but if it existed in the manor that Robert described, the school had none of the licences it should have had.

“Tim spent almost an entire day - you won’t be able to find  _ anything _ about the circus if you don’t rest, Tim,  _ please _ tell me you took breaks - anyways, spent almost a day combing through accident and incident reports for the Doncaster area in June 2002 and found one that could be connected. On the third of June 2002, Joseph Puce reported hearing an impact in the field adjoining his house. Upon investigation, he found an unopened parachute with no sign of anyone having been wearing it, and with no logo, label, or other means of identification partially buried from hitting the ground at high speed. Tim interviewed Mr. Puce, who vehemently denied the presence of any planes or skydiving of any sort in the vicinity of his property.

“There’s nothing else I can talk about to keep pretending there’s anything normal going on here, so I suppose I’ll add - this marks the tenth time Tim has tried and failed to quit, and the sixth time Martin has done the same. I still haven’t tried. That might not be a great sign, all things considered, but it is what it is. I think we’ve all decided to accept Gertrude’s recording as the truth by now. There’s probably no point to them continuing to try, though I won’t stop them if they still want to.

“About the statement though - Harriet Fairchild with an old man named Simon. This stood out to me because of the connection with falling, which might or might not be a valid sort of connection to draw? I don’t know, because  _ Gertrude only felt the need to tell me what  _ one _ of the supernatural fear gods was. _ Either way,  _ Simon _ Fairchild -”

The door to her office opened violently enough to knock over a chair and several boxes of statements - not much of a loss, they weren’t organized anyways - as Martin practically fell through the doorway, panting.

“Martin?!”

“Sasha! Sasha- there was- I was- Prentiss!!” He picked the chair back up with shaking hands and collapsed into it.

“Prentiss-” Sasha just about vaulted her desk to get to the door, looking out in a panic. “Is she  _ here?! _ ”

“ _ No! _ No. No, god I hope not! She was at my apartment.”

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ Martin, I’m so sorry,” Sasha began as that particular horrible thought sank in.

Martin let out a breath that could have been a laugh, had the circumstances been far better. He kept nervously glancing out the door every couple of seconds and had curled up to get his feet off the ground, but Sasha figured that with what he had escaped this was probably the closest he was going to get to relaxed any time soon.

“I- ” she said, unsure of where to start, “Is Prentiss  _ dead? _ How did you escape?”

“No, she- ”

“Actually, most important question first: do we need to worry about her here, now?”

“I don’t think so. She ran off; I don’t think she’d have followed me here.”

“Okay.” Sasha paused, considering what she should do next. Martin had been attacked by a  _ worm lady, _ locked in his  _ flat, _ and then she had run off and Martin came  _ here. _ “Um, is there- is there anything I can do?” Maybe not the best question, admittedly, but she wasn’t sure there  _ was _ any clear path to take here. How do you deal with  _ worm ladies? _

“I think… I think maybe I’d like to talk about it? Make a statement, and all.”

“The spooky kind? I mean, I know talking about things can help, but…”

“I don’t- I don’t know if it’d be coherent otherwise. That’s how it works, right?”

Sasha meant to hesitate more, to point out how much they  _ didn’t _ know, but instead she found herself saying, “Yeah, seems like. Let’s do this, then?”

-

_ Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his neighbor and an encounter witnessed between them and the being known as Jane Prentiss. Recorded direct from subject, 12th March, 2016. Statement begins. _

_ Ah - should I start where I met my neighbor, then? _

_ I guess so? That wasn’t what I meant to say, but… _

_ Alrighty then! First time I met him was a couple years back, when I moved into the apartment I live in now. Well. I’ll probably have to move again, after Prentiss. I don’t know that I can make myself go back there. I’d be shocked if there was anywhere else cheap enough that close… Anyways. Couple years ago, moving into my apartment. Carrying some boxes down the hall, I run into this man. He’s horribly irritated at first, telling me off for not just taking multiple trips instead of carrying so many boxes I could see, but once I get my wits about me enough to look back at him, he just… stops. He apologizes immediately, for running into me and then being so rude, and helps me get everything back into the boxes and into my apartment. Even helps set up my furniture. _

_ The whole time, though, he seems off, I think. I don’t really have a better word than that? If I had to be more specific, I’d say tired, or sad, but neither one seems accurate enough. His eyes are too bright for either of those, sharp enough to seem angry, but he definitely isn’t that. He keeps looking at me, while he thinks I won’t notice. I’d have avoided him after something strange like that - you never know - but honestly I was a bit flattered. Ah, anyways, he helps set up my apartment. I offer him some tea as thanks, but he just leaves immediately. I only realize as he’s leaving I hadn’t even introduced myself, so I do, and he replies that his name is Jon as he walks out. _

_ I don’t see much of him, for a while. He has a really irregular schedule, so the times we run into each other outside of our apartments are completely unpredictable. Whenever we do, though, he always ends up getting that strange, almost-sad look to him, and he always tries to leave as soon as possible. Now that I work here, actually, it reminds me of him, in a way. I could always swear I felt him looking at me past whenever he managed to make his excuses and leave. It was… odd, but I never thought much of it until Prentiss. _

_ I’m trapped in my apartment, checking again the towels and socks and fabric I had stuffed under the door and into every crack I could find, and searching for any other ways her worms might get in, when I remember Jon. He’s got a completely irregular schedule so he could be safe, but he  _ does _ live next to me and Prentiss is  _ right outside of my apartment. _ I can’t even  _ call _ him and I just have to sit there and hope somehow that he’s on vacation and won’t return until she’s gone. _

_ I can’t hear outside very well, what with Prentiss and the worms and the fact that I’ve basically tried to make my apartment as air-tight as possible, but I do know for certain I hear Prentiss greet someone. I’m  _ so _ tempted to open the door and try to help whatever poor person has stumbled across Prentiss escape, but I know there’s not really anything I can do to change what’s happening. There aren’t any screams, though. The worms are quieter, and besides that I only hear Prentiss’ muffled voice. I can’t tell what she’s saying. Then the worms start squirming again, loudly, like they had when they were trying to get in, but instead it sounds like they’re leaving. After that, there’s actual silence. _

_ There’s another knock on my door, like how Prentiss had been knocking, and I hear Jon’s voice. He says it’s safe, and I hesitate, because I don’t actually know he  _ hasn’t _ been turned into a worm person, but when he repeats that it’s safe and that there aren’t any worms, this time it feels like he’s just saying something I’ve already known. As I remove the fabric from under the door I panic, for a second, but no worms come through. He’s already apologizing as I open the door, for not being there sooner. I feel watched, like I do sometimes at the Institute, except to an extreme. There’s no sign of that on his face, however, and he seems genuinely concerned. _

_ He makes as if to leave, once he’s made sure I’m alright, but I follow him. I need to know how he got Prentiss to leave like he did - what if she comes  _ back? _ He keeps trying to make excuses - he’s clearly desperate to get away but for some reason he doesn’t just ignore me and walk off while I’m talking. I’ve heard from the other people in my apartment, on the few occasions I’ve ended up talking to one, that he’s plenty rude and irritable to them, but he refuses to cut the conversation short. As I keep badgering him for information about Prentiss, he keeps looking more and more desperate to leave, and I start to feel a bit bad. I’m considering just accepting his excuses and letting him leave when he asks me how I’d even gotten  _ in _ that situation in the first place, and I tell him. _

_ I had been investigating a statement - Carlos Vittery, I believe his name was. I’d broken into the flat he’d lived in through the basement during the day, and gotten nothing useful from the people there. That night, though, I got it in my head to go back and poke around the basement some more, which I did. It should be fairly obvious at this point, I think, that I didn’t find ghost spiders and instead I found Jane Prentiss. I panicked and ran, and in the commotion dropped my phone, but I made it all the way back to my apartment. In the middle of the night I woke up to knocking, and found worms crawling under my door. This was when I blocked up every entrance to my apartment and just waited, terrified out of my mind. _

_ When I was talking to Jon, I ended up telling him a lot more detail than that. I figure it might’ve been panic, making me run my mouth more than I really should’ve talking to someone I barely know, but I don’t think I talk  _ that _ much. Either way, immediately after talking to him I came directly here as fast as I could. And… now I’m here, I guess. _

_ Statement ends. _

-

The silence stretched a bit awkwardly as they both pondered the statement Martin had given, before Martin finally spoke up: “Ah, I suppose at least we know he was spooky, right?”

“That conversation you had with him… that was a statement, wasn’t it? About Prentiss. So you couldn’t make a spooky statement about Prentiss because you already had?” The implication hadn’t occurred to Sasha while Martin was talking, but now it seemed obvious. “That’d mean this Jon is tied to the Eye as well.”

“Oh! Yes, I suppose so. It did… It did feel a lot like this, now that I think about it.”

Martin was clearly still on edge - only reasonable, after what he’d been through. Probably the best thing to do, in this situation, would be to focus on that? She’d be able to think about Martin’s statement later, once he was settled. “There’s a cot I found down in the Archives. The room it’s in is well-sealed, even if the humidity control doesn’t seem to have been working for quite a while. I’ve taken a few naps down there, but if you don’t feel safe in your apartment, you could stay there?”

Martin paused for a second, and then his shoulders relaxed into an approximation of relief. “That’d be great! Thank you so much - I didn’t even  _ know _ how I was going to get any sleep at home.”

-

Martin had left to borrow what he’d need from Tim and Sasha was turning his statement around in her mind when a knock on her door broke her concentration and Elias stepped into her office.


	2. [Thursday part 2, Friday part 1] absolutely zero people respect elias thank you for your time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elias gets dunked on (and other, less important stuff happens I guess)  
> People: I like this  
> Me: blacks out and writes an entire chapter in a day

Elias - she still couldn’t make up her mind whether or not to call him Jonah - stepped into her office with his ever present smirk plastered to his face.

“I couldn’t help but overhear -”

She decided at that moment to continue calling him Elias, ostensibly because it would be rude to call someone a name other than the one they’re going by, and honestly because Elias Bouchard is a far easier name to make fun of.

“- you and Martin discussing the presence of a… creature, of the Eye?”

Whether or not he  _ is _ reading her mind, she figured, there isn’t actually all that much he could do if she just starts calling him Elias Bastard.

“I would much appreciate if you would give me that tape -”

Elias  _ Bitchard? _

“- so that I could look into it, as you and your assistants can’t really afford to be spending time on this when you don’t even know  _ when _ the Unknowing will take place, let alone how to stop it.”

_ Elias Douchard. _ Doucheard? No, Douchard.  _ Perfect. _ “I was under the impression that you already heard the statement? Knowing other people’s business  _ does _ seem to be the only thing you’re any good at.” Sasha hoped he  _ was _ reading her mind. He had complete control over his name - he deserved to hear her opinion of it.

“For  _ reference, _ Sasha.” He hadn’t dropped his smirk or his air of calm yet, but she could tell he was already speaking through gritted teeth. 

She wondered if Gertrude had taken to calling him James Wrong. He really had  _ no _ taste in names. Unfortunately, Gertrude had also been unclear on the exact extent of his powers, and Sasha wasn’t sure today was a good day to keep pushing him and find out. “I’ll make you a copy, if you think you can survive waiting until tomorrow.”

“... That will be fine, I suppose.”

There’s still a chance he can’t hurt them - that being really old and seeing more than average are the extent of his powers - but Gertrude was wary of him and so being  _ extremely _ wary of him seemed to Sasha the best decision. As he - Elias Douchard - left the archives, she breathed a sigh of relief and went to make a copy of the tape so that she, Martin, and Tim would still have access to it should they investigate.

They should investigate, probably. The Unknowing loomed an indefinite amount of time in the future, certainly, but Elias was certainly interested enough to come down to the Archives and try to turn her  _ away _ from investigating. Unless that was reverse psychology? She gave Tim a rough explanation of what had happened, why Martin was borrowing his clothes and a spare toothbrush to live in the Archives, and promised to give him a longer explanation tomorrow when they had more time, while still trying to put together the pieces she had to make a complete picture even though she was missing most of the pieces.

When she got home, she could barely get herself to stop thinking - obsessing, not that she would admit to it - over what she knew and more importantly, what she didn’t.

While heating something up in the microwave - she could at least admit that she was far too distracted to cook - she thought through what she knew from Gertrude. She knew she couldn’t quit, and that this was because of… eldritch fear gods. The Institute serves the eye, and Elias wants to use her to start the apocalypse somehow. He’s also Jonah Magnus, somehow, and can see through eyes. Additionally, there are tunnels somewhere, and Gertrude had wanted to burn the Institute down, and at some time after that, she died. By the time the food was out of the microwave, she had moved on to what she had figured out past that. She could make people tell their stories more coherently, but only if it’s a spooky story, and sometimes she can get people to answer her questions even when they don’t really want to. Neither Martin nor Tim can do those things, although they also can’t quit. 

Of the other fear things, one was probably bugs or something similar, considering the existence of Jane Prentiss. One might or might not be falling or heights, considering how that’s a pretty common fear. Martin’s research into whatever cult Gertrude had mentioned had led to some cult of darkness, so the dark was probably a fear, which may or may not be somehow the same fear that’s probably connected to the Cult of the Lightless Flame. She really wished Gertrude had taken the time to give a list, at least of the ones that might be important.

Irritatingly, however, she still  _ didn’t _ know where the tunnels Gertrude mentioned are,  _ or _ who she was talking to,  _ or _ why she was burning the Institute down in the first place! Was that the sort of thing Sasha should finish - if she could bring herself to - or were there extra factors not mentioned in the tape that she’d need to figure out first? Was she wasting time leaving the Institute intact or would acting with such little information end up making the situation worse?

If this Jon would help her, would he know? Would he even help her, or would he side with Elias? He’s a creature of the Eye so it would seem like he’d want Douchard’s apocalypse to go through, but just assuming that with nothing else to go on seemed like jumping to conclusions, and if he  _ could _ be an ally she would hate to overlook him. Heaven knows she has few enough allies as is. Douchard wanted the information about him, which would imply they aren’t already working together, but whether Douchard wants to investigate a potential ally or a potential threat she had no idea.

She fell asleep trying to decide what she should do the next day.

-

The time it took her to get ready, eat breakfast, and commute to the Institute was unfortunately not enough for her to make much of a plan, so when she got to the Institute she dropped the copy of the tape off in Douchard’s office to get that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, and headed down to the Archives hoping someone else would have half a clue for where to go next.

When she arrived in the archives, it turned out she didn’t have to put together a plan immediately because Martin was gesturing her frantically into her office. Inside her office, she found Martin and Tim - along with all the mess Gertrude had created in her campaign to not do anything Douchard wanted, there wasn’t really enough space for Sasha to join them but she did anyways - and there, on her desk, a fire extinguisher and a note.

“While you were off putting up with World’s Worst Boss up there,” Tim began, “Martin got me caught up on what happened in more detail. We think this Jon thing broke in and left this stuff on your desk, but we were waiting for you to show up. This is the sort of thing that needs responsible supervision, yeah?”

“Tim. You cause  _ far _ too much chaos for me to even  _ try _ to supervise you.”

“Ahm -” Martin broke in, wincing as Tim and Sasha turned to look at him. “I didn’t exactly… I didn’t exactly wait for Sasha? I got here before Tim. I didn’t look at the note or anything! It’s just… my phone was there too? So I took it. It seems the same, and I needed it to make a call. To my…”

“If you didn’t notice anything off, I doubt I would. I guess if something’s wrong, you can just tell us?” Not a great plan if there  _ was _ something wrong with Martin’s phone, but Sasha couldn’t think of a better plan. “Tim, do you have anything?”

“Nothing to add, boss!”

He was upset, but considering the research into the unknowing and this new potential problem it only made sense. Sasha was a bit worried for him, especially with his insistence that he was fine, but she couldn’t think of anything to do to help so she let him be for the moment and picked up the note and held it so everyone could read it.

-

_ I just wanted to say again how sorry I am, Martin, for what happened. I should have managed that better. I could probably apologize for this entire letter, but there are a couple things I need to say first. _

_ Your flat is safe, both from Prentiss and myself. Prentiss has left completely and I strongly doubt she’ll be back, and I’m moving. If you don’t feel safe in your apartment, I believe there’s a cot somewhere in the Archives you could sleep on, though I doubt it’s very comfortable. _

_ Your phone I retrieved from Prentiss while she was leaving - I forgot to give it to you while we were talking. _

_ Most importantly, though, for all the staff of the Archives, I have information about Prentiss I desperately hope you don’t end up requiring. CO _ _ 2 _ _ will kill her worms, hence the fire extinguisher. Additionally, should you see any of her worms again, it’s important to make sure there isn’t an infestation. Her worms are small, and can build up to genuinely threatening numbers like those that were outside your apartment in the walls and under the floor. I hate to give you more reasons to worry, but I would hate more to leave you without the knowledge to defend yourselves should the need arise. _

_ Apologies for breaking in to leave a note like this, but I figured it’d be preferable to me showing up to tell you in person. _

_ Jon _

-

Martin was obviously upset by the potential of more worms, Sasha thought, noticing Martin’s attempt to surreptitiously check around her office for any sign of worms. More worms was certainly an awful thought, but first - “We need to decide how much of this we’re going to trust.”

Unsurprisingly but inconveniently, Tim said, “None of it.” at the exact same time as Martin said, “All of it.” They stared at each other, neither particularly willing to change their minds.

“Martin…” Tim started. “I mean, it did save you from the worm lady and obviously that has to count for  _ something, _ but we have no way to know it actually has your best interests at heart. I mean, look at how we thought about Elias and the sort of person he’s turned out to be. We’re surrounded by monsters, Martin. We can’t really afford to take risks.”

Sasha was fairly certain she saw  _ something _ other than disagreement flit over Martin’s face - a memory? - but she wasn’t certain and it didn’t look like Tim had seen anything. He knew she and Tim would help him if he was having a problem, she’d have to trust him to talk to them in his own time.

“I know that… It’s just, there’s a lot of monsters involved in all of this, but there’s also us? We can’t be  _ that _ unique, can we?” Whatever uncertainty Sasha might or might not have seen on Martin’s face, it wasn’t stopping him from defending Jon.

“Tim,” Sasha said, still not entirely sure what she was going to argue, “You know better than either of us how dangerous this stuff can be,  _ that’s true. _ But, I’m not sure we can afford to not get every ally we can? I’m not sure we can trust Jon, but I think maybe it’d be worth seeing if we have anything about him?”   
  


“Sash, we don’t even know  _ when _ the Unknowing will be, do we have the  _ time?” _

Tim was right that the circus needed to be stopped, and that  _ that _ was the most important, but she was getting a bit worried about him, with how much he was focusing on that one thing. She wasn’t entirely certain he even wanted to  _ survive _ stopping them, as long as they lost, and that scared her almost more than Prentiss. But maybe, if he was working on something else part of the time, it would be close enough to taking breaks? And besides, she knew exactly how to get him to agree. “Tim, ignoring this to focus entirely on the Unknowing is what  _ Douchard _ told me to do yesterday. Are you saying I have to do what he says now??”

There was a pause while her words sank in, before Tim’s serious face fell apart with laughter. Even Martin, though he didn’t really seem to approve of making fun of their boss, was stifling giggles with his hand. In the midst of all this, it was good to see her friends smile.

She waited until they had calmed down to continue. “Ultimately the Unknowing is still our priority, for what should be obvious reasons -”

“Sorry Sash, I think I forgot the reasons,” Tim interrupted, looking far more relaxed and happy than he had at the beginning of the conversation.

“Tim, you’re fired for not being smart enough. Martin, we’re focusing on the Unknowing, but I think it would be good to do what investigation we can into Jon as well. If he’s an ally or an enemy or something else, I think I’d like to know sooner than later.”

“Aww Sash…” Tim complained while Martin ignored him and agreed with her. “Can I be unfired if I offer to take the fire extinguisher to Martin’s apartment to see if Prentiss or Jon is there?”

“Tim you got fired for being dumb. Why would you get unfired for being more dumb? But yes, if you’re  _ careful, _ you can go check. If Tim’s looking into Jon, Martin, I think we should probably continue trying to dig up what we can on the circus. Alright guys, let’s do it.” “Aye aye, boss!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon gives Martin his phone and tells him about Prentiss here because I forgot to write those two things last chapter  
> Good news guys! I have a plan for more than one single chapter of story now!


	3. [Friday part 2] sasha james holder of the one braincell

Sasha had just listened through statement 0141010’s recording by Gertrude - the statement of one Sebastian Skinner - when she got a text from Tim. She paused the tape before Gertrude’s notes could play to make sure he was okay. Apparently, he was fine, something came up, he’d catch her and Martin up after the weekend because he wasn’t going to make it back to the Institute during the work day. A bit suspicious, perhaps, but she trusted him. He’d found something investigating Martin’s flat, but if it was urgent she trusted that he would have told her. She sent him back a text to say she’d gotten his text and that he wasn’t needed back at the Institute immediately, and she sent Martin a text so that he’d know not to worry either.

It was better than him coming back partway through the day with nothing, or at least, she’d think that come Monday. For the moment, though, she was honestly worried that her fixation on what Tim could have found would distract her from  _ her _ research, and she really did need more information about the Circus or the Unknowing or the Stranger or  _ something. _ He probably hadn’t found Prentiss - Sasha couldn’t imagine a scenario that wouldn’t end fairly quickly (for better or for worse) with that - so he’d probably found Jon.

Did Jon know what was going on in the Archives? Was he like her? He was definitely aligned with the eye, and he  _ seemed _ to be more helpful than Douchard, at least. Well, hang on. Jon was aligned with the Eye in some manner, and statements were probably  _ for _ the eye. When Martin had made his statement about Jon saving him, had he mentioned that he could only hear Prentiss’ voice? Maybe that was a specific detail to remember, but… she was also aligned with the Eye. She remembered the contents of Martin’s statement. Had Jon gotten a statement from  _ Prentiss? _ If that was the case… had his goal been to save Martin, or had that been incidental?

There wasn’t anywhere useful she would be getting at this rate - no matter how much she thought about it, she knew she didn’t have enough information for any significant conclusion. As much as the thought grated, she would have to wait for Monday, when Tim would tell her what he’d found. Until then, the only thing she could really do would be to get herself together, and finish listening to Gertrude’s notes. She sighed, and hit the play button.

-

Martin stared blankly at his computer screen. Hypothetically, it was open to research, which  _ hypothetically, _ he had the sort of background where that research would be perfectly understandable. Tim had said it’d be fine with Sasha, that she’d probably help him, but… what sort of help would he even expect? This was his  _ job _ \- he couldn’t just expect someone else to do all the hard parts for him because he wasn’t qualified. No matter how nice they were, they wouldn’t let him keep his job if he wasn’t even doing the work he was supposed to. He rubbed his eyes and squinted despondently at the words as if that would force them into making sense. No luck.

Maybe if he tried something else? Was there another angle he could research first, so his lacking notes would look like he was just scatterbrained and stressed, after Prentiss? It wouldn’t even be a lie - he was still jumping at pretty much every noise and if he didn’t check the room he was working in regularly for worms he couldn’t even pretend to focus after a bit.

His tea spilled across his desk - and the papers he was working on - as he flinched so badly he almost fell out of his chair.  _ Speaking of being on edge and anxious, _ he desperately tried to get the more important papers out of the tea and spread out to dry as Sasha, who had bumped into something on the way out of her office, presumably, reached over to help him.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Martin. I wasn’t really watching where I was going.”

“Ah, no… no, it’s - it’s fine. Don’t worry! I… ah, I’m okay.” Congratulations, Martin. What a  _ successful _ conversation this is turning out to be.

“Here, I’ll get the papers for you. Do you have anything dry to change into?”

“Oh! Thanks… ah, I’m sorry, to trouble you… I can - I have something, yeah.”

“No worries! You’re doing pretty great, all things considered!”

For a second Martin panicked - she’s been getting eldritch knowledge powers, after all. Was this some kind of passive aggressive reference to his CV? Was she expecting him to apologize for lying - no. No, this wasn’t his mother. This was Sasha, his friend, who cares about him. She wouldn’t do something like that. Probably. He went to go get changed before his panic could show on his face more noticeably.

-

_ Damn, _ had he thought she was being passive aggressive about his CV? She and Tim were trying to help him unlearn the habits he’d gotten taking care of his mother - it broke Sasha’s heart, seeing how hard he tried and how little his mother reciprocated - but he was still  _ so _ inclined to assume that everyone had the worst possible attitude towards him. She couldn’t reassure him, either, because then she’d have to admit to knowing about his CV, and as much as she didn’t want to spring that on him on a normal day, she  _ really _ didn’t want to add stress like that to everything else he was dealing with after Prentiss had attacked him.

The research on his screen was… well, she could see why he had been squinting at it. She hoped he hadn’t convinced himself that he couldn’t ask for help understanding the writing - he had a tendency to pick up work that was a good deal more difficult than he’d be expected to do even  _ with _ the qualifications he was pretending to have, and just try to push through it.

Well, she couldn’t reassure him, but at least she could distract him. They needed to talk about what she’d gotten from Gertrude’s statement anyways. But while he was changing- she took some notes on the page he had open. She was bored, it was in front of her, why not? Hopefully Martin would accept that excuse, and wouldn’t take this as a sign of something bad. It was the best way to help him she could think of, until Tim was here Monday to tell Martin what was and wasn’t part of the expectations of his job.

She wrapped up her notes as she heard Martin coming back, and grabbed the tape player from her office.

“Hey, Martin, while you were changing I took a couple notes on that page you had open? It looked mostly incomprehensible, honestly, so I thought I’d see if I could help at all. Spare you some pain.”

“Oh- ah- thanks!”

“Here, could you listen to this tape? I found one of Gertrude’s recordings of a Stranger statement with some of her notes, and I’d like to talk it through with you.”

-

Martin stared at Sasha in a vague sort of resigned horror. They had more information about the Unknowing, sure, but not much they could actually  _ act _ on. The Unknowing, “within the next few years,” at the time Gertrude had recorded that. Orsinov and the Circus needed a skin of some sort for the Unknowing, probably a specific skin, but Gertrude was too vague about what that skin was and they had no way of knowing if Orsinov had found it since Gertrude’s recording. There was a witness, but Sebastian Skinner didn’t seem the type to have actually noticed anything useful.

“Gertrude sounded like she had a  _ plan, _ ” Martin began, “or at least like she was making one. Why couldn’t she have left her notes on  _ that _ on the tape she left us?”

Sasha blinked. “Hang on a sec, Martin, I need to check something.” Before he could respond, she was back in her office looking for Gertrude’s tape as if she hadn’t memorized the words on it.

“Wha- ”

“You’re right. She  _ didn’t _ tell us how to stop the Unknowing. She didn’t even mention it! That doesn’t make sense. No way she just forgot…”

She and Martin made eye contact, and he could see that they were both coming to the same conclusion. “...Is the Unknowing…?”

Sasha nodded, bouncing a bit where she stood. “I think the Unknowing isn’t a threat. Either Gertrude set things up to stop it, or she found some inherent flaw in it some point after this recording. The  _ only _ ritual she told us about - the  _ only _ ritual she felt she’d need to warn her successor about - was  _ Douchard’s. _ And  _ he’s _ the one telling us to go after the Unknowing.”

As excited as Sasha looked, Martin only felt worried. “Can we risk that, though? If the Unknowing  _ is _ a threat - if Gertrude set something up to stop it but someone undid that, if Gertrude  _ forgot _ … Can we risk it happening?”

“Can we risk this being part of Elias’ ritual? Damned if we do, damned if we don’t, huh… We need more information about rituals.”

-

The workday ended without them having found any more information, and normally Sasha would have left, but Martin was staying at the Institute, alone, for the whole weekend. He had said he’d be fine, but that hadn’t even been a good lie. Martin could lie,  _ really well, _ when he was trying to follow up on statements, and Sasha honestly wasn’t sure if the more worrying sign was how not okay he had looked, or the fact that he hadn’t managed a better lie. Either way, Martin had been attacked by a worm lady and he was clearly not doing fine. So, the only thing to do was to sleep over at the Institute with him!

She was trying to figure out how to get her sleeping bag, pillows, and the rest of the stuff she’d gotten from her apartment through the doors and into the Archives - taking multiple trips is for cowards and the weak, after all - when Martin, having changed into Tim’s pajamas, found her.

“...Sasha? What are you doing?”

“We’re having a sleepover! I’m not leaving you stuck in the Institute, alone, for the entire weekend. What kind of friend would I be  _ then? _ ” She asked as he held the door open so she could maneuver her stuff inside.

“You don’t- you don’t have to do this- ”

“But I want to! Unless this’ll cause a problem for you?”

“No! No, it’s fine, this is fine… I just, you just- ”

“Great! It’s settled then!”

She got herself set up by Martin’s cot as she tried to think of what to do next and the silence stretched out a bit awkwardly, filling up what little space was left in the storage room they were in.

“... Well then,” she began. Martin looked up at her as if he was hoping  _ she _ had an idea for what to do next - not a great sign given that her best idea was to ask  _ him _ for ideas. After a bit of discussion, though, she got Martin to admit that he’d been planning to try and research Jon once Sasha was gone - 

“I  _ know _ we don’t have the time during the work day, but it’s my personal time so it’s fine, right? And- ”

\- and after a bit, he managed to convince Sasha… well, he didn’t convince her that he wasn’t going to overwork himself. She was willing to allow, however, that he’d overwork himself  _ less _ if she was there to help, which was functionally the same thing. Apparently, she was a bit late on the stopping-Martin-from-overworking-himself front, though, because he’d already been on his own at the institute overnight once and so once she agreed he immediately pulled out a couple statements that he’d found dredging through Gertrude’s ‘filing’ and his notes. He had only found one he was certain was about Jon, but that was an impressive feat in itself considering he’d only had one night.

-

_ Statement of Andrew Davison, regarding an empty office building and the man he found there. Statement recorded by Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. Statement begins. _

_ I was working as a janitor at the time, at some big generic office building. There weren’t many of us there, after hours, so it was always a bit big and empty. That’s why it took me so long to realize when the building went from generic office building with a couple other people cleaning up different areas on night shift, so some sort of hell building that went on forever with no exit and no other people. _

_ I say hell building, but it really was just a generic office building. The same sort of cubicles and bland decorations, the same grey paint, on every floor I’d visit. _

_ I’ve been wandering around for… a while, let’s go with that, when I notice a man. Feel a bit of pity for him, at first, being trapped in this hell with me, but at least we could be trapped together. The second I notice him, or at least near enough, he turns to face me. I don’t think I’d made any real sound, but I didn’t have to do anything to get his attention. Actually, I don’t think I’d heard any sound since I’d stopped calling for other people. I’m too grateful to see him to notice any of that at the time, though. _

_ He calls out my name, as if there’s any chance he  _ doesn’t _ have my complete attention, and walks over. _

_ Now that I’m a bit closer to him, he’s as strange as the building I’m trapped in. Neither he nor the building have anything I could point at and say - this, specifically is completely wrong. Despite that, all of the regular things add up to something that’s absolutely not right. The building, though, makes me feel like I’m fading out of existence. The man makes me empathize with butterflies pinned up on a board, except I’m pinned to reality, unable to even hide. _

_ It’s a relief, but in the way suddenly being very warm when you’ve been freezing is. It hurts to get your sense of feeling back, but it’s a step towards something better. _

_ I’m honestly so shocked that I don’t even notice as he grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the stairwell. Before I can point out how that won’t work, how that hasn’t ever worked for me before, I realize I can hear our footsteps echoing as we walk down. I haven’t heard that in so long. _

_ For a second, I’m convinced that he’s walking down the stairs backwards, looking back at me. He isn’t, obviously, because that would be a really awkward way to walk down the stairs, and it’s not even like the back of his head resembles his face. _

_ Earlier, the feeling of existing had been a bit of a balm, but by the time we see an exit door, I feel too much like I’m being pulled apart to even feel particularly excited to leave. The feeling disappears immediately, though, as I step out of the building. I just… exist. There are cars on the street, and people walking by on the sidewalks, and I can hear people talking and the pigeons fighting over some french fries across the street and the sounds of traffic, and it’s honestly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. _

_ Jonathan doesn’t look happy. He looks… guilty? sad? I don’t know. He doesn’t look like he just escaped an infinite hell building, that’s for sure. He won’t meet my eyes. I try to get his attention, to try and celebrate our miraculous escape, but he just sighs, and sucks in a breath as if he’s bracing himself for something. _

_ When he looks up from the ground and actually meets my eyes, the feeling - a butterfly pinned to a board, an insect dissected and pulled to pieces so every single part is visible, a person on a stage with no secrets left under a spotlight - is so much worse. He asks me what happened, and I tell him. Spill my whole dang emotional journey to the man, I’m being more open than I’d have been telling my ma and I’d trust her with just about anything. I’m so busy talking I can’t really focus on looking at anything, but it looks kind of like… his eyes moved? or maybe there are more of them? I feel like I’m making eye contact, even if I’m not looking where eyes should be. I can’t  _ stop _ making eye contact while I tell him the entire story in excruciating detail. _

_ And then it’s over. He apologizes, looking, if possible, even more miserable than before, and leaves. And I’m just standing there, on the street, overwhelmed by how loud living is. I’m glad he saved me, even if it’s a bit hard to cope sometimes. It’s nice to be able to listen to the birds, when I need to take a break. _

_ Statement ends. _

-

“It’s honestly kind of nice,” Sasha began, idly flipping through Gertrude’s notes on the statement, “to see a statement that might actually have what I can call a happy ending. Bit of an unconventional knight in shining armor, but as near as I can tell from Gertrude’s notes, Andrew Davison was all the way free. Gertrude didn’t anticipate him falling back into… the Lonely! That’s an entity name!”

“Wha- ?” Martin blinked a few times, blushing. He hadn’t been paying attention to her talk about Gertrude’s notes - wait.

“Wait- do you have a crush on him?”

“Why would-  _ why _ would I have a  _ crush _ on him?”

“You  _ do! _ You weren’t paying attention to me talking about Gertrude’s notes because you were  _ daydreaming _ about him  _ saving _ you!” Maybe Gertrude’s notes would have the more useful information research-wise, but finding out about Martin’s crush was more important for her mental health. You need to take breaks, and all.

“I- I- No I  _ don’t! _ I  _ don’t! _ ” Even as he said that, though, he nodded a bit, blushing as red as a strawberry.

Sasha ruffled his hair and grinned at him, before he could start to berate himself for the horrible crime of having opinions and emotions of his own. “Is it the rad powers, Martin? Martin is it the rad powers?”

Before he could respond, she gasped. “ _Martin!_ Why don’t you have a crush on _me?_ _I_ have rad powers too!”

“Sasha. I’m gay,” he said, smiling a bit.

She tossed aside Gertrude’s notes. Those could be read through on Saturday. Before that, she and Martin could hang out, talk shit about Douchard, and have fun. Lord knows the two of them could use an actual break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably best to expect delays - spring quarter just started and I don't understand how _either_ of my running start class formats work. They're both on _different_ incomprehensible websites, too. I'm dying.


	4. [Saturday part 1] I Wrote An Entire Outline After Posting Chapter Two And Couldn't Even Follow It For Half A Chapter (this used to be chapter three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god now I have to trash almost my entire outline  
> me writing this chapter: [adds an ellipsis] [adds an ellipsis] [adds an ellipsis] [adds-

Tim felt a bit awkward walking up to Martin’s apartment in broad daylight carrying a fire extinguisher under one arm. He’d spent the train ride over trying to decide on the least suspicious way to hold it and gotten a few weird looks but not as many as he’d worried at first. Then again, people pay a surprisingly small amount of attention to each other in crowded spaces, so maybe he didn’t have to worry? If anyone asked, he could say he bought it for his flat.  _ Can _ you just buy fire extinguishers? He didn’t know, but presumably no one else would either.

When he got to the apartment, he made a quick stop to inform the landlord of (an approximation of) Martin’s situation, so Martin wouldn’t have to worry about keeping up with rent for an apartment he wasn’t even staying in. He would have to find a new apartment after this, the landlord said, but honestly Tim and Martin had talked and once he felt safe outside the Institute Martin could just stay with Tim.

He didn’t see any worms immediately, and then he shelved that temporarily when he noticed an extremely tired looking man covered in bandages trying to get down the stairs while struggling with several boxes and a cane. He had bandages on the parts of his skin that were visible, and it looked like they probably continued under his clothes. Tim was, unwillingly, a little bit impressed at how stubbornly the man was sticking to what was obviously a terrible idea.

The poor man paused for a second to take a break - it was moving out, Tim realized. He felt watched. “Are you Jon?” He called out. The... monster (?) flinched and dropped all three of the boxes it had barely been balancing. “...Do you need help there?”

“ _ Tim? _ What- why- Prentiss isn’t here! And if she  _ was, _ you’d just be putting yourself in danger!”

Leaving aside the fact that it recognized Tim - spooky knowing powers, probably - it seemed… almost  _ upset _ at the idea of Tim chasing Prentiss down with a fire extinguisher. Was it actually worried about him getting hurt? Why would it care?

“Besides, I clearly don’t need help,” it added, laughing a bit under its breath. “I got the boxes down the stairs, didn’t I?”

“... You dropped them, and they fell down the stairs.” He didn’t think it was funny. He didn’t! He couldn’t afford to! If it  _ did _ turn out to be a threat, lord knows Martin would be too broken up. Someone would have to keep their head on their shoulders to fight.

And besides, he couldn’t lose anyone else. So he wouldn’t take risks, getting close to more people he could lose. He was already too close to Sasha and Martin.

While he’d been pondering that, the monster had managed to pick its stuff back up and walked past Tim towards the door.

“Hey! You said Martin’s ‘safe from you’, yeah? What did  _ that _ mean?”

“Ah… I really am sorry about that. It’s just, I’m not… great, to be around? It’s not safe. I can… hurt people, so. It’s better if I leave. Even if he isn’t coming back, an apartment isn’t… a risk I should take.”

He looked so sad, hunched up as if he expected Tim to attack him just for existing. Not that Tim cared how it was feeling. Nope! Tim was not thinking about that! If it’s a danger to the people around it, that’s a great reason for team Archives to never go anywhere near it. He could just leave, tell Sasha what he found out - “Here, I’ll help you carry some of that. No offense, but you look like you’re made out of pipe cleaners.”

It wasn’t very difficult for Tim to grab all of the boxes from Jon - the man really was as weak and shaky as he looked. He stumbled, clearly not expecting the loss of weight and losing his balance, but he recovered before he hit the floor. Now that Tim was standing next to him, he looked even worse than he had. It was easier to see that he had just stuck band-aids all over his skin, which did in fact ook to continue under his shirt. Whatever injury he was dealing with, surely there was a better solution than using probably multiple boxes of small band-aids.

He was too scared to be around anyone - was he trying to deal with some major injury alone? “Where do you need me to put these?” Tim asked, shifting the boxes slightly in his grip.

Jon was still standing stock still, staring at him in shock. Tim made a private bet with himself that at the very least, Martin had a crush on those eyes.

“... Oh! Right. Um, ah, I was going to carry them on the train? I don’t. Actually have a plan. For where to go.”

Now Tim and Jon were both staring at each other, neither entirely sure where to go from that. Jon was just… what  _ was _ he doing? Was he planning to be homeless? Just to avoid people? That… that wouldn’t do. “Jon?”

“Yes…?”

“Follow me. I’ve got somewhere for your stuff.”  _ Wow, _ this was far removed from his original plan.

“Can I ask- ”

“You’re staying at my house. No, you don’t get to argue. You’re not just going to be _ homeless. _ ”

“Tim- I don’t- It’s fine! I can’t get pneumonia or anything, you don’t have to- ” As he protested, though, Jon started walking after Tim towards the rail station. He still looked nervous, covered in injuries and clearly terrified of… of what? of Tim? Tim wasn’t just going to let that stand. He’d made a decision and he was going to follow through now.

He sent Sasha a quick text so she’d know he hadn’t been killed by Prentiss or something, and gave Jon a box to carry because he wasn’t sure he could keep all of them balanced in a crowd. That was another thing, actually - Jon was moving out and he only had three boxes? Every time Tim noticed something about Jon, he just got another thing to worry about.

Sitting on the train, another, even worse thought occurred to him. Jon deciding to be homeless in spite of the risks would be enough of a problem, but… “Jon, how do you know you can’t get pneumonia?”

Jon pretty clearly got what Tim was asking about right away and tellingly, he hesitated.

“No, nevermind. Don’t answer that one. Just… don’t try anything like that again, okay?”

-

Jon… didn’t know what to do. Tim was here, being… gentle? To him? He couldn’t help feeling like he was taking advantage of Tim somehow, considering Tim didn’t remember everything Jon had put him through. Jon had done so much wrong, and Tim was here, talking to him like his wellbeing was important. The lady sitting next to him had a statement about the Spiral, and so did the man who kept fidgeting with his hat, and there was a budding Hunter slowly losing track of their self to the Hunt, and the woman huddled near the corner of the train, avoiding the crowd, had a statement about the Desolation, and he… he was a threat to all of them, and he needed to explain that to Tim so Tim would know the danger Jon was.

Tim was going through Jon’s boxes, looking increasingly distressed about what he was finding, and getting the couch set up so someone could sleep on it, and finding a place for Jon to store his clothes, and, and, and…

“Tim, I really appreciate this, but- ”

“But you’re a danger? You seem like you’re probably more of a danger to yourself, honestly. Actually, you’re spooky like Sash is, right? That’s not a problem, then.”

Even if… even if his treatment was unfamiliar, the stubborn set to Tim’s expression wasn’t, and Jon doubted whether he’d actually be able to change Tim’s mind on this. Maybe if he hurt Tim, but he’d sooner die, and, well… he couldn’t do that. “Tim- it’s not- I’m worse. I… I  _ literally _ live off other people’s  _ trauma. _ Sasha’s still… approximately human, at least. She’ll be okay, as long as I… find a solution, soon enough. I’m…  _ not, _ and I can’t ever be again.”

Tim stopped pulling the sheet flat and turned to look at him. Maybe he’d get it now? Why Jon couldn’t just hang out in his house, why this was a terrible idea. Jon wasn’t sure what his exact reaction was - he always avoided people’s eyes in general to scare them less and now he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Tim’s face.

“I- what? How does that even work?”

Jon risked a glance at Tim’s face, and saw… confusion. Not fear, although Jon could tell he was at least somewhat afraid, and not anger or hate, just… confusion. He still wasn’t getting it.

“I- ”

“Actually,” Tim interrupted, “shut up. You’re going to describe what’s probably a valid concern, but in the worst terms possible to get me to hate you so I kick you out. You know what? I’m not feeling it right now. Unless it’s super relevant, you can explain tomorrow and we’re going to watch the Great British Baking Show.” To be fair, he was right, and Jon couldn’t lie. Even when he could, he couldn’t, but now he really couldn’t. Tim sat down on the blankets on the couch and turned the tv on. When Jon hesitated to sit down, Tim grabbed his arm and pulled so that he fell over onto the couch. “After this, we’re fixing your weird band-aids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim: i can’t risk having any more friends who might die on me  
> Jon: god wont let me die  
> Jon: no matter how hard i try  
> Tim: ...dude are you okay  
> Jon:  
> Tim:  
> Tim: [TIM is now your OLDER BROTHER]  
> Jon: ???
> 
> Sasha: hey tim! how was your investigation  
> Tim: i adopted jon he was too sad i couldnt take it
> 
> Tim: [gives martin the shovel talk]
> 
> Now I will scavenge through my outline like I’m a starving orphan in a post apocalyptic wasteland looking for pieces of junk so I can decorate the haphazard shelter I call home


	5. [Saturday part 2] okay i guess tim might have a braincell too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JONNY SIMS AND ALEX NEWALL DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE AND THANK YOU  
> That being said content warning in this chapter for implied past suicide attempts. Bit more blatant than chapter three (though it’s still pretty small), if you want to miss it just skip the three paragraphs after the first break. BESIDES THAT it’s recovery time for Jon.

Tim had expected, helping fix the bandages he’d seen on Jon’s arms something… normal? A falling apart mental health and your house is a mess version of attempted first aid? Well, it was that, but not for scratches or… another sort of injury like Tim might have expected. Instead, there were, covering Jon’s legs and continuing partway up his torso and his arms, dozens of small, circular scars. 

Scars, and - not covered by the bandages but very noticeable nonetheless - eyes. There were the two on Jon’s face, yes, but when he took his shirt off so Tim could help him with the bandages haphazardly slapped on his back to approximately cover the scars, Tim could have sworn he saw at least five more eyes on Jon’s back for a second before they closed. When he looked closer, there was no sign of them. He almost asked Jon about it, but then he saw Jon’s face and decided that it could wait, at least for a bit.

“Why’d you even have bandaids over scars like this anyways?”

“I… honestly? I forgot to take them off.”

“How  _ long _ do you have to forget to take bandaids off for the injuries to heal all the way though? How did you  _ do _ that?” Tim took a more teasing tone, trying to get a smile out of Jon, but instead Jon’s face just fell further.

“The scars are, ah, from Prentiss. A couple days ago?”

“Oh.”

The scars did  _ not _ look like injuries from a couple days ago. A couple years, maybe? Well, Tim had known that the man wasn’t human. He’d  _ known, _ and then turned around and decided to treat him as if he was human  _ anyways. _ But… even with Tim having seen these clear signs of his inhumanity, even with no chance of pretending somehow that he was, in fact, just a sad and lonely man, Jon still didn’t seem like a threat. No  _ oh no you’ve caught me, _ no  _ I have to kill you to keep my secret _ or  _ now that we’re alone I’m going to attack you. _ As far as Tim could tell, he was still a sad and lonely man, just not a human one.

“Are… are you okay?”

Jon’s look of fear and shock as Tim asked that cemented his decision.

“I’m fine. They’re, they’re all healed, so…”

“That’s not what I meant, Jon. Are you  _ okay? _ ”

Jon opened his mouth as if to respond, but instead, he just started crying. Silently, at first, clutching at his sides and shaking as if he could stop Tim from noticing, but when Tim grabbed him and pulled him into the biggest hug Tim could manage - like he had with Danny, back when, well - he gave up on being silent and grabbed Tim back like a drowning man would clutch a life preserver as Tim moved them both over to the couch to sit. Tim noticed a couple eyes open towards the back of his neck, but when he made eye contact with them Jon swore and tensed up, and after a second they closed. Tim could practically  _ see _ Jon trying to shove his emotions into a box to get enough control to stop that from happening, but…

“You’re okay, Jon. You’re safe,” Tim whispered, and felt the tension drain back out of Jon’s shoulders. A few eyes opened back up, and Tim shoved his discomfort aside enough to smile at them. He was going to comfort Jon, goddamnit.

The two of them just sat there for a while, holding each other.

-

Jon took a shaky breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. The normal two - the other ones didn’t cry, and anyways, they had closed as he’d calmed down.

“...Is that how you knew you wouldn’t get pneumonia? Because you heal fast?” Tim was scared of Jon. He was trying to pretend he wasn’t, but, well. Jon could taste it. He wasn’t  _ as _ scared as Jon would have expected though, so, at least there was that.

Jon wished he could lie, yet again. Pretend it was just that he knew he ‘healed fast,’ instead of being as confident as he was that pretty much nothing would be able to kill him. Tim had gotten it right earlier, when he’d decided he didn’t want to know. The silence seemed to be enough of an answer for Tim, who sighed and held him a bit tighter. He was beginning to get the impression that Tim would only let go if he pulled away first, and, honestly, he didn’t think he was going to do that any time soon.

“You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. It’s just, how much do you know? Because we don’t have much, right now, and, well.”

“I… a lot. Where- what- ah, hm. I’d be happy to help, I just don’t know where to start, I guess.” 

“Do you know anything about the Unknowing?”

“I- ah, I do, yes. Most relevantly, I suppose, is that, well, Nikola’s ritual? That she’s setting up? It won’t work. It’ll… collapse, left on its own…” Jon trailed off at that point, remembering the last time he’d seen Tim - the mess of colors and sounds, and one sliver of focus, before - but Tim doesn’t notice, clearly caught up in his own thoughts.

-

Awkwardly, haltingly, but in what seemed like as much detail as he knew or could bring himself to give, Jon explained what he knew to Tim. Their boss a body hopping Jonah Magnus, Sasha on the road to becoming inhuman in the same vein as Jon himself, and a complete list of all fourteen entities plus a fifteenth that might be emerging. Tim didn’t want to believe him, but, well… Nothing he had said had actually seemed all that off, compared to everything else Tim knew to be true. He obviously wasn’t saying everything, but that seemed less like an attempt to conceal information and more like Jon himself wasn’t up to confronting those topics yet. Tim knew what that felt like, and let him keep his silence when he didn’t seem inclined to answer a question.

He felt Jon inhale, as if bracing himself for something, and he dropped his arms as Jon pulled away a bit. Jon didn’t look like he wanted to talk, but he’d clearly decided that whatever he was bracing himself for was a conversation he needed to have, even if it wouldn’t be pleasant.

“This is… it means a lot to me, Tim. You being, so nice, like this? But, ah, I wasn’t, wasn’t kidding earlier, though. I  _ am _ a threat. At the very least… I think we need to talk, about that.”

Ah. “Yeah. That seems fair.”

“I mentioned earlier… how I… eat? Essentially?” Jon had tucked himself into the corner of the couch, hunched up against the armrest, as if he was… as if he was expecting to be attacked.

Tim didn’t know what to do to reassure him - didn’t know  _ if _ he could reassure him, so instead he just nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t make much sense, but I mean, what does?”

“I can make people answer my questions, like Sasha? But… more. I live on, statements, basically.”

“I mean, we have a lot of those. Do you need me to grab you some or something?” Jon flinched. “Ah. There’s something more, then?”

“I… I need to leave.”

“What?” If he was hungry, Tim had access to statements, but if that was all it was Jon probably wouldn’t have been so stressed for the whole conversation. Past making people overly honest, he still couldn’t really see any way the shaking twig of a man in front of him could pose a threat to anyone. What was he going to do, make uncomfortable eye contact with people with the few eyes Tim had noticed appear as Jon had shrunk back against the arm of the couch, looking around - keeping an eye out for threats, Tim supposed.

“Written statements aren’t- they’re more like- they just- ”

Jon clearly couldn’t figure out how to phrase what he was trying to say, but Tim could guess. “They’re not enough?”

“I- yeah.” Jon, somehow, found a way to make himself  _ even smaller _ as he said that. His efforts to avoid eye contact, though, were ruined by a couple of eyes on his arms that kept glancing back up at Tim.

“So, what? You need people to tell you their stories? I- ”

“ _ No! _ Well, yes, but. It’s not, it’s worse than that. They have, horrible nightmares, and, it’s just, I just- ” Jon was beginning to hyperventilate.

“Jon. Calm down. It’s okay. Breathe.” Tim tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, and made his breathing a bit more obvious and slow so that Jon could copy him.

-

Jon tried his best to explain it to Tim - the nightmares, the watching, the  _ all eyes. _ He needed to go, to find someone. To help them, yes, but to get their statement. Was he really even helping, or was he just saying that, to justify it to himself? He didn’t know, but he hoped it was the first one. He was selfish like that. Couldn’t even confront the worst aspects of himself, even after all this.

“…How do you get any rest?”

…What? “What?”

“If you have to watch all that every night - how do you get  _ any _ rest?”

“I… ”  _ What? _ What about the people, and their nightmares? And Tim was, was looking at him with  _ concern? _ If someone said something into his ear, Jon thought distantly, they’d be able to hear it out the other one with how little he could manage to think right now.

He could taste Tim’s statement, he realized. He needed to leave, now. So, he got up, ignoring Tim’s question, and went to leave. While he was walking out the front door, however, he felt a hand grab his wrist. He jumped, and turned to see that Tim had grabbed him for some reason. Oh. Well, he’d just explained how much of a monster he was. It made sense, then, that Tim wouldn’t want to let him outside. He couldn’t stay, though, not when he was a threat to Tim himself. Tim was stronger than him - he wouldn’t be able to pull away. Maybe he could convince Tim to let him go, but if he couldn’t- Tim was saying something. He almost didn’t want to listen, to hear what sort of things Tim might say. That wasn’t his nature though, so he did.

“You can ask me about my brother, if you need to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *odin voice* canon has no meaning in this place
> 
> Tim: buys jon funny shirts to sleep in  
> Tim: tries to talk jon into going to sleep in a whole entire cowboy costume  
> Tim: writes ‘sorry - i cant stop this any more than you can’ on a blank shirt in sharpie and gives it to jon  
> Tim: convinces jon to fall asleep in a stereotypical sheet ghost costume. In the nightmares it has a bunch of holes that the real sheet doesn’t have when he went to sleep for all the other eyes.


	6. [Sunday part 1] try the archivist diet!! doctors hate this!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone: elias isn’t looking quick discuss important information  
> or: im too lazy to deal with the villain who can see whatever he wants so therefor hes like at a spa or something comfortable in the knowledge that nothing important will happen this weekend
> 
> should i rename this fic the guy this door guys place your votes now (joking but he was literally next door for only one chapter)

With Sasha and Martin set up in the storage room with the cot, there was very little space, so naturally Sasha brought in some pillows and stuffed animals to take up even more space. The end result wasn’t nearly as cramped as Sasha had worried, though. Martin’s cot was tucked into one wall, and Sasha’s sleeping bag was tucked into the other, with pillows and some blankets spread out on top of the various boxes and piles of papers to hide the mess and make more comfortable places to sit. The stuffed animals were clustered into a corner, arranged as if they were having some kind of discussion.

They had tried venturing out into the rest of the institute - ate the breakfast Sasha had bought in the archives break room - but rapidly came to a silent agreement that the empty institute was far too creepy and resigned themselves to spending a lot of time in the little room they’d slept in. Not… great, as far as Martin’s work-life separation went, but Sasha couldn’t think of anything else to do. Even if the archives proper were only missing one person, even though there wasn’t really any way to actually  _ tell _ how empty the rest of the building  _ was _ from the archives, the knowledge that there was no one else in the entire building right now was enough to keep them staying curled up on the pillows Sasha had brought to discuss Gertrude’s notes.

Gertrude had been theorizing about Jon, uncertain if helping that person had been his goal, or a convenient side effect of his… hunting. She continued on to say that it was “hard to imagine someone that far gone from humanity could have that much of a conscience, but I find myself unwilling to rule the possibility out.”

So. Statements were his food, then? Gertrude had certainly implied it, if not outright stated it. The entities fed on fear - she guessed it would make sense.

“If Gertrude’s comparing him to you - well, she compared him to herself but…” Martin turned out to be the first who managed to put it into words.

“I… yeah. I do feel better, after reading them.” That information was a lot on its own, and Sasha would have wanted to discuss it more had her eyes not caught on the phrase, ‘follow up confirmed nightmares consistent with those statement givers report.’

She snatched up that paper, and Gertrude continued, ‘Elias seems to not have any more information than I do, for once, so it doesn’t seem likely that he has another Archivist running around, but it seems equally unlikely that this Jon is something different. Certainly he’s far less human than I’ve managed to remain, but I think had I been less careful with my humanity we would be far more similar. I suppose it’s not impossible…’ and didn’t elaborate on the nightmares at all, but Sasha suspected she had enough pieces to put together what Gertrude was talking about.

“...Sasha? Did you find something more?”

“Martin. Have you been having nightmares about Prentiss?”

“I- yes? It was horrible, why wouldn’t I?”

Before Sasha had to elaborate, though, Martin’s eyes lit up as he guessed what she was asking about. That expression was honestly all the confirmation she needed, but it still felt like everything froze as Martin said, “I’d thought it was weird, actually. The whole nightmare is the worst case scenario for what happened, with the worms getting in, but besides that it all matches with what happened. Except… Jon’s just, there. In the corner of my apartment, while I try to block the worms out, watching. It’s… well, I know it’s Jon, but. His eyes… hm. It’s not so much that his eyes are  _ weird, _ it’s just… he’s  _ all eyes, _ I suppose.”

Sasha was standing, watching as Naomi Herne tried to claw her way out of the formerly empty grave. She was watching as Sarah Baldwin turned to notice Melanie watching her, stapler still in her hand.

“I think… I’m doing that too.”

-

Sunday, Tim woke up sweating, and it took him longer than he’d have liked to admit to realize that he wasn’t in the flat he had been staying in since, well… 

Jon had been there, as he’d said he would, watching while Tim was too frozen to do  _ anything _ while the clown had pulled Danny’s skin off the… thing. It had been awful, frankly, but it’d been weirdly nice to see Danny’s face again, even as it had been pulled off like a costume to reveal the horrors underneath.

But, no. He wasn’t there, and he wasn’t then. He was on his bed in his bedroom, in the flat he’d never been able to bring himself to decorate and fully move into. Actually living there, making it his home, felt like a betrayal to Danny’s memory. He didn’t  _ want _ to move on unless he first burnt those bastards that took his brother to the ground. His friends - Sasha, Martin - made that harder, but he cared about them too much to try to leave them.

He wouldn’t get anything done staying in bed being sad, though, and he had to at least eat something for breakfast, make sure Jon was doing okay. It  _ really _ didn’t seem like Jon actually believed in Tim’s goodwill yet, despite everything, and he got the impression he should really check in on him. Dragging himself out of bet, he ran a hand through his hair and headed out into the living room and to the kitchen.

When he got into the living room, Jon was sitting curled up on the couch, with the blankets and sheets folded nicely and left on the coffee table. Jon looked stressed and guilty, like Tim had guessed, and he was still wearing the clothes Tim had lent him to sleep in - the clothes, Tim realized, he had been wearing in Tim’s nightmare. He hadn’t really… processed that, at the time, because he’d had so much else taking his attention, but Jon had definitely been wearing those clothes.

Tim did an abrupt about face and darted back into his room in a moment of inspiration.

When he came back out into the living room with a blank t-shirt in his hand, Jon was still sitting where he had been the first time Tim came out, and Tim saw the expression of fear on his face turning into an expression of sheer bafflement. Tim ignored that, spread the shirt on the coffee table, and grabbed a sharpie.

TIM STOKER IS THE COOLEST PERSON IN LONDON, he wrote across the front of the shirt in big letters, and heard Jon snort.

“Sorry I just realized I actually  _ need _ that shirt I lent you to sleep in,” he said, grinning. “But it’s okay! You can sleep in this, instead!”

“Tim…”

“Jon…”

Jon tried to keep a serious face, probably for whatever guilt complex he has, but eventually he broke down laughing like Tim knew he would. He changed into the shirt on the table and tossed Tim the one he had been wearing, saying, “since it’s so important to you, I  _ guess _ I can live without it.”

“Oh! That’s right! Do you need anything for breakfast or am I on my own?” Tim honestly wasn’t sure if Jon even  _ ate _ regular food.

-

Jon had tried to protest that he didn’t want to impose, and he didn’t technically  _ need _ to eat any of Tim’s food to survive, but then Tim asked if he  _ wanted _ anything to eat and wouldn’t listen to his protests - “Sorry, I can’t hear you over the pancake sounds-” so Jon found himself sitting at the table with Tim, staring at a plate of pancakes. Tim didn’t look like he was doing great, and Jon could still taste his fear, but he was  _ still _ being nice to Jon. He didn’t seem at all inclined to react like Jon had expected him to, like he probably would be right to. Did he… actually, genuinely not blame Jon? Oh, that’s right. He still didn’t know how much of this had been Jon’s choice. He probably assumed that this was some horrible accident that Jon was trying to make the best of, or something.

Jon said as much, and Tim gave him a questioning and slightly sarcastic look. When he explained as best he could, still not able to bring himself to mention how exactly everything had gone wrong because he was still too  _ selfish _ to tell Tim he had  _ already _ decided not to trust Jon, Tim did look disgusted and upset, the way Jon had thought he would. But instead of doing… anything else, he just took several breaths to calm down and asked,

“But how much of that did you actually  _ understand _ was going on?”

“I- what?”

“When you made those choices - how well did you know what the results would be?”

Jon felt… unnervingly seen. Not in an Eye way - that wasn’t unnerving anymore. “I hardly see how that would be of importance. Either way, I made the decisions every. single. time. If I didn’t get enough information before making a decision, that’s still squarely on me.”

“So… You walked into this, on  _ accident, _ with no idea what you were getting into and probably no way to get any reasonable amount of information? Am I getting this right?”

“I mean…”

Jon felt tears in his eyes again, and ducked his head a bit to avoid Tim noticing. He tried to disguise the motion by picking at his now cold pancakes, and if Tim did notice, he let it go. They ate in silence after that, Tim grabbing himself some more pancakes while Jon picked at his cold ones.

A knock at the door startled Jon badly enough he flinched and accidentally shoved a piece of his pancake off his plate with his fork as Tim got up to go see who it was. As soon as Tim unlocked the door, it flew open to reveal Sasha and Martin, both disheveled and absolutely terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: tim doesn’t blame me because he doesn’t know how much of this was my choice  
> Tim: okay fair then how much  
> Jon:  
> Tim: bro you didn’t know jack shit did you  
> Jon: no :’(
> 
> You’re sleeping and the eye man haunting your nightmares is wearing a shirt that says ‘martin tim wants to know if you can get the laundry tomorrow because he’ll be out all day’ what do you do
> 
> Endgame is all of team archives living in a house together  
> \+ whoever else gets adopted into team archives along the way  
> because im lonely and projecting


	7. [Sunday part 2] spoilers: martin is Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aromantic confession time I thought crushes were invented by bad writers to add unnecessary conflict to stories until I was like sixteen when I realized that me being aromantic meant that there were other people who, get this, weren’t aromantic.  
> anyhow in conclusion i dont know shit about romance all i know is found family eat ice cream and stay awake until 5 am writing fanfic

Martin had been the one to notice. They’d been eating in the break room, because the small storage room had been getting, unsurprisingly, cramped. Sasha had been telling… some joke, probably, but he couldn’t actually remember what she’d been saying because he’d stopped processing what he heard the second he’d noticed the slight movement in the corner of his eye.

It hadn’t been much, just a little twitch, but he’d been out of his chair and across the room before he’d even taken time to think about it. Unlike all the previous times he’d thought he’d seen something, this time there actually was something there. Three somethings. Three of Prentiss’ worms, in the corner of the room. He and Sasha hadn’t even taken the time to see if there were others. They’d just grabbed their bags out of the storage room, shut the door behind them to keep it sealed, and ran out. Martin hadn’t started calming down until he could see Tim’s apartment.

Then Sasha threw open Tim’s door the second she heard the lock click, and Martin went right back to panicking.

That was… definitely Jon. Sitting at the table, eating pancakes. Wearing a shirt that was clearly too big for him. With some kind of round scars visible on his arms and hands. Staring back at Martin.

Sasha and Tim were talking about something, probably. It would have made sense, but honestly, Martin couldn’t hear anything. Jon wasn’t blinking. He looked startled, like he was two seconds away from bolting. Martin took a step forward, slowly, as unthreatening a picture as he could manage.

When Jon didn’t flinch, or vanish, or whatever else Martin was worried about, Martin took a couple more steps to sit at the table with Jon.

… Being nearer did  _ nothing _ to help his crush.

It  _ did _ give him a better look at Jon’s face, though. Jon seemed… stricken? Immensely sad.

“...Martin,” Jon said, under his breath. Then he blinked and shook his head. “Martin! You’re here, with Sasha, what’s- did something happen?”

That snapped Martin back to reality. “Oh! That’s right! Prentiss! There were- there were worms in the institute!”

Jon was around the table looking worriedly over him practically before he could finish the sentence, hands fluttering as if Jon was resisting the urge to outright pat him down to check for worms. Martin wasn’t really sure what to do with a reaction like that, honestly. Instead of confronting that, he looked at Jon’s shirt and realized that Jon had ‘Tim Stoker is the coolest person in London’ written across it in Tim’s handwriting.

“Ah, no, there were only three. What… why…” He gestured to the shirt.

Jon looked down, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Oh. It’s because, ah, the nightmares? I wear whatever I’m sleeping in. So. Tim.”

That made sense, actually. He couldn’t remember his nightmares well enough to say what Jon had been wearing, but- wait. “Wait. How’d Tim figure that out?”

“I…” Jon trailed off, looking even more distressed than he had when Martin had first shown up.

Before Jon could decide what to say, Tim leaned into the conversation and said, “Well a dude’s gotta eat, yeah?”

Martin blinked, not certain what to make of that sentence, while Jon looked like he was caught between relief, irritation, and guilt. Sasha pulled up a chair and stole the rest of Jon’s pancakes from him, apparently not bothered by how long they had been sitting there, and, uninclined to be the only one standing, Tim sat down directly on top of the table not even bothering to get a chair.

“So,” Sasha said. “We need to talk.”

-

Tim tuned out for a bit, having already heard Jon’s explanation, and only started listening again once things sounded less like a lecture and more like a discussion.

“ -then why doesn’t Martin have nightmares of me? He made a statement to me,” Sasha was saying. “Is it because it was a statement about making a statement? I suppose that could get a bit recursive.”

“You’re all tied to the institute, so you’re protected from that sort of thing. I don’t… I think you’re right, though, that it’d be too recursive. If Martin wasn’t part of the Institute, and all.” 

Jon seemed more comfortable, Tim thought. He’d been really on edge when Sasha and Martin had arrived, but now he looked as close to peaceful as Tim had seen. Well, if he was anything like Sasha, and clearly he was, Tim wouldn’t be surprised if making theories and discussing evidence was actively calming to him. He and Sasha were both curious - depressingly, that’s how they’d ended up in this situation.

Eventually, though, Jon and Sasha got tired of discussing theories based on evidence they didn’t have any means to get and the conversation turned to more immediately relevant topics.

Martin paled. “There’s  _ tunnels? _ Just, under the institute?”

“Unfortunately, that’s probably where Prentiss is too. So we’d have to do  _ something _ about her to get access…” Jon either ignored or didn’t notice Martin’s increasing horror, sounding more like he was discussing the weather than the likely presence of the evil worm lady.

Bit hypocritical, Tim thought, considering how many scars Prentiss had given him. That being said, “Sounds like there’s a lot of tunnels though. With you and Sash, couldn’t we just… avoid her?”

“No… It’s hard to see, in the tunnels. Magnus  _ can’t _ see there, which is why I’d like to take our discussion there, if we can. We’ll have to do something about Prentiss no matter what, because people will be coming in to work tomorrow, but…”

Oh yeah. The rest of the institute. That was really not great. Tim took a breath to calm down.

“Worms versus thick cloth and silk. Jon?”

“Um, ah, they’d certainly have a harder time, but they’d still be able to get through that relatively quickly. Why- ”

“It seems to me,” Tim said, trying to pretend he had more confidence than he actually did, “that someone’s gotta do something. Unless we want to convince the ECDC that there’s a bunch of worms in the secret tunnels under the Magnus Institute, biding their time until they can attack en masse, we’re the only ones who know what’s going on. I can get scuba masks and oxygen tanks, so we don’t give ourselves CO 2 poisoning, and then we layer up and clear the worms out.”

-

The plan, in the end, was essentially that. Jon, because as much as everyone argued against him putting himself in harm’s way he  _ was _ at least  _ nearly _ immortal, and Martin, because he didn’t want to be fighting worms on his own, would go into the tunnels from an entry outside the institute and kill the worms as they went towards the Archives. Tim would be waiting in the Archives for when the worms inevitably tried to escape Jon and Martin by fleeing into the building, to try and stop them from getting to where the regular staff was. Sasha would be waiting at the fire alarm. She could sort of see what was going on with some advice from Jon, so she’d set off the fire alarm if Tim texted her, if the worms started getting out into the building or when most of the worms were in the Archives.

If she set the fire alarm off while there were still a bunch of worms in the tunnels, they might try to escape past Jon and Martin, who would only be able to do so much. Hopefully, they’d be able to corral most of the worms into the Archives to make sure they died, without risking the other staff. Hopefully, their layers plus the CO 2 would be enough to keep them safe from worms.

It was… a lot, but then again Sasha had been planning to try and stop the apocalypse until now, so she couldn’t really say the stakes were unexpected. They were unexpectedly  _ low, _ if anything. Still, she didn’t think there was anyone in their group who wasn’t incredibly on edge as they planned out what clothes they’d wear. She was the one who managed to find a ridiculous deal on fire extinguishers, to give them all a bunch in hopes that it would be enough. Tim could just leave them around him on the floor of the Archives, and Martin found a cart he and Jon could put the extra fire extinguishers on so they could bring more than the few they could carry while walking. Sasha would have one with her, just in case.

It would have been great to do this with no one else in the building, but it had taken the whole day for them to get organized and no one wanted to accidentally fall asleep in the middle of fighting worms that will try to eat you. So, they decided to try and get in early on Monday and hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and martin are both blushing so hard and tim and sasha are in the background like… oh god they’re both pining at the same time ho w is t his pos sibl e
> 
> if martin had been paying attention to what tim and sasha had been talking about he'd've heard them making bets about him and jon  
> their conversation was actually done way before they interrupted jon + martin they just wanted to see how long it would take jon and martin to notice tim and sasha were just sitting there watching them be awkward, but then when the nightmares came up tim interrupted because jon was looking miserable and he felt bad


	8. [Monday part 1] FUCK cliffhangers time for the entire prentiss fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are headlamps called in england

Jon and Martin had set off earlier that morning, before the sun was even up. There had been a bit of arguing over who would carry what -  _ I’m perfectly capable of carrying that much while holding my cane, Martin, I’ve had plenty of practice, _ versus  _ absolutely not, Jon, there’s no reason for you to have to juggle that much, I’m managing fine _ \- but they had managed to reach what was approximately a conclusion in time to leave, even if Sasha was fairly sure she could still hear them arguing as they walked off. Even with the preparations they had, and her fair degree of confidence that their plan would work, it was unnerving to know that in all likelihood she would only find out how they were doing after Prentiss - from… now, as they entered the tunnels, until everything was over and they came out, she would be completely in the dark, as it were.

She looked over at Tim and saw him standing near her, also staring blankly in the direction Martin and Jon had left in, probably stuck having similar thoughts. He blinked and shook his head a bit as he reached the same conclusion that she had - that at this point, worrying about Jon and Martin wouldn’t achieve anything, and that the most they could do would be to do their parts. Offering him a smile, she nudged him back away from the door and into his apartment, where they were wrapping up their own preparations.

They would have a fair amount of time following Martin and Jon’s departure, so they had helped the pair get ready to leave instead of sorting out their own stuff.

Sasha frowned at the coat she was holding. “We’re going to die of heatstroke before Prentiss even arrives.”

“Well, maybe Martin and Jon will, but you have to admit it’s not like either of  _ us _ can get any hotter.” Tim’s grin was a little shaky, but it was there.

She snorted. “I suppose you’re right. It’s a  _ wonder _ we’re allowed into the Archives, with all the rules about fire sources.”

“That’s what all the fire extinguishers are for!”

They kept joking as they put on as many layers as they could and tried to find the least suspicious way to cart a significant number of fire extinguishers and two oxygen tanks set up for scuba diving through public transportation and into the institute while dressed like they were both competing for London’s Most Suspicious Person. It was a work of art, honestly.

Their closest call came once they were already  _ in _ the institute, trying to figure out how they were supposed to go down some stairs without accidentally killing themselves. It was far and away the most obvious Douchard had ever been about looking at them, and Sasha got the vague sense that he was too shocked to keep his usual level of caution. The feeling went down to a level that might not have been noticeable had they not known what to look for, but it was way too late. 

They froze and looked at each other, trying to decide what to do - invent an explanation? What would even be believable? Fight him? But as seconds passed and nothing else seemed to happen, they came to a silent agreement to ignore him unless he made a nuisance of himself. Odds were, as an avatar of the spooky fear monster of being nosy, that he wanted to watch whatever they were trying. They didn’t really have a way to plan for him, with even Jon not really sure what he could or would try to do in this situation, and worrying about it, like worrying about Martin and Jon, would only waste time.

That wasn’t a particularly soothing thought, but Sasha wouldn’t have made it through her time in Artefact Storage with at least some semblance of good mental health if she wasn’t good at compartmentalizing.

With the way the Archives were sealed - for preservation purposes - by far the easiest way for the worms to get out into the rest of the institute would be through the regular exit. The insulation in the walls keeping the Archives separate from the rest of the institute would at least be a fairly significant barrier to Prentiss’ worms, so the hope was that Tim would be able to keep the worms from escaping into the rest of the institute by guarding the door.

They pushed a table up near the door for Tim to stand on, to give him a bit more protection, and piled most of the fire extinguishers up on it with him. Tim decided to put a few fire extinguishers throughout the rest of the Archives, just in case, and Sasha took her one fire extinguisher and left to take her own position.

Where she was standing, ready to pull the fire alarm but with a fire extinguisher and wearing several layers too many just in case, she was relatively tucked away in a corner of the building no one really went to. Despite being on the wrong floor entirely, with her vision completely blocked, she could still vaguely make out Tim if she concentrated. She focused a bit harder to look through the Archives - no worms yet, which was to be expected, but it was a good confirmation for how much detail she could get - and went back to only focusing enough to be generally aware of Tim and how he was doing so she wouldn’t get as bad a headache.

Douchard was watching Sasha, and Sasha was watching Tim, and Tim was watching the archives, and they all had to sit there and wait.

-

Martin was not caught between urgency and boredom while waiting. In fact, he wasn’t waiting. He was following Jon through the dark and creepy tunnels, listening to their footsteps echoing, squinting against the shadows, and trying not to hyperventilate. He have even been stressed enough to get over his embarrassment and hold Jon’s hand, but Jon was holding his cane in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other, and Martin was holding a fire extinguisher in one hand and pulling the fire extinguisher cart in the other, and all in all the logistics just wouldn’t work out, no matter how hard he thought about it.

Jon seemed to have a good sense of Martin’s growing nerves, pausing to reassure him when his fear was getting so bad he couldn’t make himself keep moving forwards, but they both knew that no matter how much they reassured each other and how many breaks they took, the best they would be managing was slightly less afraid and not calm.

Martin’s headlamp flickered and he could have sworn he felt his heart outright stop for a second, but before he could do anything more than panic silently Jon had set down his fire extinguisher, pulled the headlamp off Martin’s head, and was replacing the battery. The light that had been shining in front of Martin was gone, pointed at Jon’s feet as he fumbled with the back panel.

“Wait, ah, what if, what if the worms come while the batteries are out? I mean, I  _ know _ if it dies we’ll have to deal with this anyways and it’s not like there’s a better option we should have just brought more torches so we could always have one on why didn’t I-”   
  
“Martin.” Jon looked up at him, and despite the fact that the only source of light had just vanished as Jon took the batteries out to replace them, Martin could still see his eyes. They were glowing, he realized. “It’s fine. I can still see around us. There aren’t any worms. Okay?”

The light came back as Jon put the new batteries in and slipped it, one handed, back onto Martin’s head. It was a bit awkward feeling, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to free up a hand to adjust it. Jon picked up his fire extinguisher, and they kept walking.

Elias couldn’t See into the tunnels. It was why they would have needed to do something about Prentiss even if she  _ hadn’t _ been planning to attack the institute - to have somewhere to talk. Jon couldn’t See very well in the tunnels either, but apparently he was a good deal stronger than Elias. They were relying on his limited sight in the tunnels to find Prentiss and to get the path that would back her up against the institute and its fire system. It was both reassuring and  _ extremely _ not reassuring that Jon seemed to get a bit more confident as he walked, more certain of where they were going.

Martin didn’t really  _ want _ to get where they were going, to be honest. If he was being really honest, he might even have admitted to having started to fantasize a bit about getting lost in the tunnels and only finding their way out after whatever had happened, happened. Doing that, however, would be abandoning Tim and Sasha, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

The choice was taken out of his hands, eventually, when he heard a sound that wasn’t his and Jon’s footsteps, the clack of Jon’s cane, or the quiet rolling of the cart. He knew what that sound was. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it. What was he doing? There were no doors to hide behind here. If he tried to run he’d just be lost, wandering around until he starved to death. He felt something shift in his hand and almost dropped it, thinking it was a worm. Why was he holding a fire extinguisher?

He shook his head to clear it out a bit, and remembered what he was here to do.

-

Jon had been worried for Martin - well. He had been worried for Martin, in all honesty, since before the world had even ended, that first time around. He had been especially worried for Martin in the time leading up to Prentiss’ attack, not sure how things would compare to his own version of events. He had been  _ even more _ worried for Martin as the plan was being discussed and finalized, because it seemed inevitable that Martin would have to encounter Prentiss again, and Jon so dearly wanted to spare him that.

But when they first ran into the worms, it had been  _ so easy _ to tell when they had gotten close enough for Martin to hear them. In that moment, Martin’s fear had been so overwhelming he almost hadn’t been able to move in time to kill the first worms as they jumped. He had honestly been worried that Martin was going to faint, trying to figure out in his head how to keep Martin with him while also going after the worms - maybe put him on the cart? - but then Martin had come back to himself, and they were side by side pushing the worms back.

He could tell when they were near the trapdoor, even before he could See it clearly enough to Know its location relative to them, as Prentiss’, and more faintly, Tim’s, fear joined Martin’s. There wasn’t really time to feel guilty, even as he winced at how he was keeping track of people. All there was to do was to fight back the increasing numbers of worms, and hope that their plan would work because there wasn’t really a way to coordinate a new one.

-

Tim had thought that anxiously waiting with no knowledge of what was happening was the  _ worst _ waiting he had ever done in his life. This feeling was rapidly beat by anxiously waiting with only a  _ slight _ idea of what was happening as he heard a crash from further in the Archives. He could hear the worms squirming now, running into things, doing their… wormy things, somewhere in the Archives.

They were right there, doing something,  _ right near him, _ and he had to stay up on his table and  _ wait. _ If he went after them now, it’d be easier for them to get up into the rest of the institute, and if Sasha had to pull the fire alarm to keep them away from the other staff too early, Prentiss could run away. There was no way to know, after all, if Jon and Martin were close enough to the institute that they’d be somewhere protected by the CO 2 , and if they weren’t and Prentiss attacked them at full force to escape, there was no way they’d beat her.

Luckily, or more accurately, unluckily, Tim didn’t have to wait for too long. He grabbed a fire extinguisher in each hand - maybe it was more efficient, maybe it wasn’t, but either way it made him feel cool - and started spraying the worms. He had his oxygen tank, so he wasn’t actually hallucinating, but honestly the whole scene felt a bit fake. Not fake enough to not be terrifying, unfortunately, even if a small part of his brain felt that this looked way more like a scene out of a horror film than something that could actually be happening in his life.

-

Sasha was pacing nervously, distracted by Tim as the worms reached him, fighting through the headache of trying to get more specific details every few seconds to make sure none of the worms had reached him.

“Sasha? What are you doing over here?”

Sasha startled as Rosie walked up the hallway to her, losing track of Tim for a second before she recovered. She hadn’t really prepared a lie, partly because it wasn’t very likely that someone would run into her, but also partly because she couldn’t figure out any way to explain why she was standing near a fire alarm wearing what looked like her entire wardrobe with a fire extinguisher and an oxygen tank on the ground nearby. 

“Oh! Uh, I’m taking a break. Just wanted some, ah, peace and quiet.” Tim was still doing fine. Martin and Jon were still outside her Sight.

Rosie looked, understandably, incredibly skeptical. “And all the…” she waved her hand vaguely in Sasha’s direction.

Sasha laughed, as if the circumstances that had resulted in this were at all funny. “I was investigating a statement, actually. Didn’t bother to get myself sorted out before hiding out up here.”

Rosie still looked skeptical, but it wasn’t like she had a better explanation, so she turned to leave. Tim was still on the table, with plenty of fire extinguishers, untouched by the worms. Martin and Jon were presumably still in the tunnels, because she still couldn’t See them.

After Rosie had been gone for a bit, Sasha risked glancing away from Tim for a second to see where Rosie had gone. She was in Douchard’s office - perhaps seeing if  _ he _ had a better explanation for Sasha’s behavior? That was fine, make him deal with it. Sasha resumed her watch over Tim, her hands itching to grab her fire extinguisher and  _ do _ something even as she was aware that she was in the position to kill the most worms right where she was.

Her image of Tim vanished for a second as she felt a pain burrowing into her ankle.

-

At this point, Tim could only hope a couple worms hadn’t managed to sneak past him. There were dead worms all over the floor, there were dead worms on his table, there were dead worms on the shelves, and he wasn’t confident he’d be able to spot a single alive worm on its own. He was just sort of targeting masses of movement and hoping for the best, which wasn’t great. It wasn’t like there was much contrast, though, especially with the foam from the fire extinguishers all over everything.

The fire extinguishers, at least, he didn’t really have to worry about hiding worms from him. They were killing the worms. Any worm hidden by the foam would also be killed by the foam, so that was a bonus.

Even with how hard it was to tell the alive worms apart from the dead, Tim could still tell that their numbers were increasing rapidly. His fire extinguishers, unfortunately, were not. He felt a sting on his leg and turned a fire extinguisher towards himself for a second before continuing, hoping that the continued pain was the result of there being a hole in his leg that just got blasted by a fire extinguisher and not because the worm was still alive. The one that had gotten through his boot to the top of his foot a bit ago, though, was still half visible and it had stopped moving, so Tim chose to take that as a good sign for the one in his leg, which was at an angle he couldn’t see to check.

-

That was definitely Prentiss!

There were,  _ so many _ worms, they were piled up off the ground and jumping and squirming over everything and Martin’s hip hurt where he’d had to pull one out but in the center of the horrible worm pile was what looked like a slightly taller worm pile and that was absolutely Prentiss! Yep!

Martin honestly wasn’t sure if he was still breathing or if he was about to pass out from oxygen deprivation.

He was  _ fairly _ confident there were no worms in his oxygen tank but what if he inhaled and there  _ were _ and they got in his  _ lungs _ and-

What if he  _ passed out, _ though? And Jon had to fight  _ all _ the worms all on his  _ own, one fire extinguisher at a time? _

Well, that was one wormless inhale! Better than nothing!

Was Jon okay? He was just standing there, Martin realized. Maybe his fire extinguisher was empty- no, there were more in the cart- were they  _ out _ \- no they weren’t- oh god the worms! He turned away from Jon and back to the worms, hoping for the best.

Faintly, he saw Prentiss… implode? in the corner of his eye and suddenly Jon was moving again.

“Damn, they still move without her,” Jon said, or rather, Martin guessed Jon said because he couldn’t actually hear Jon very well.

Did Jon kill Prentiss?   
  


_ Fuck, _ he needs to stop getting distracted. There are so many worms here.

-

Sasha lunged for the fire extinguisher she had with her and blasted the worm. She bent down and tried to pull the worm out of her ankle, and winced at how much it hurt. Still, she didn’t want a worm in her ankle, so she pulled until the worm was out.

With one person guarding a door, it wasn’t like he could make absolutely sure no worms slipped through. She Looked, quickly, for any other worms, and Saw two more, both near her but heading towards areas with more staff.

Running was a bit difficult with all her layers, but she caught up to the worms fairly quickly and squished them with her work boots. They weren’t moving, so she glanced back at Tim -  _ why _ hadn’t she realized he was on his last fire extinguisher? The worms hadn’t taken that long. Had she missed too much talking to Rosie? She sprinted back to the fire alarm faster than she’d even managed running after the worms and pulled it hard enough she was almost worried she’d break it.

  
The worms screamed like the  _ damned, _ loud enough that even on a different floor Sasha could barely hear the fire alarm over them. She didn’t bother evacuating - the only threat had ended once the fire alarm had been pulled - and instead ran down to the Archives, albeit at a bit of a slower pace than she had ran seconds ago, to see Tim and Martin and Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im writing this like that gif of the guy in the cart or whatever it is laying down tracks in front of himself as he goes except also im blindfolded and also the cart is on fire. send help.  
> there is every chance i will just write daisy more like season four daisy for the simple reason that i dont like season two/three daisy very much and also daisy and jon’s friendship is my favorite relationship in the series  
> either that or she is going to Speedrun her character development i just want her and jon to be friends okay
> 
> to be clear: jon has a whole bunch of worms scars (from chasing prentiss away from martins apartment), everyone else has like one to three. you dont have to worry, theyre all fine


	9. [Monday part 2] JURGEN LEITNER? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER?? ST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up i have a couple chapters worth of plan heres hoping i can actually stick to that
> 
> also if you are leitner's one (1) fan i hate him thats your warning

It was a bit difficult to walk in the Archives, with all the worms all over the floor, but Sasha made her way over to the trapdoor where she had Seen Tim enter the tunnels. Once in the tunnels, she immediately understood why Jon had wanted to move conversations there, as she felt the prickling of being watched drop to nothing. There was an arrow drawn into the knee high mess of worms on the floor of the tunnel, and Sasha followed it away from the trapdoor to somewhere slightly more hidden in case Douchard tried to investigate which had the benefit of being somewhere the dead worms didn’t reach her knees.

Tim, Martin, and Jon had pushed all the worms clear of a space, and had gotten chairs down into the tunnels at some point, with a fourth one ready for her. At a glance, they all looked fine, so any worm related injuries would have to be minimal, thankfully. She sat in her chair with a sigh of relief, and looked over her assistants and Jon.

“How are you guys doing?”

“I’m fine, all things considered,” Martin began. Jon gave him a look, and he added, indignantly, “I  _ said, _ all things considered, Jon.  _ Relatively, _ I am fine.”

Martin blushed and ducked his head while Jon and Tim confirmed that they were about as well as could be expected. Sasha was going to ask for more details about what had happened, but Jon interrupted.

“Ah, if you’re going to all talk about what happened, you may as well do that upstairs? Elias is probably going to expect you to get everyone’s statements anyways, so it’d be a bit redundant…”

Somehow, he managed to follow that sentence by looking even more awkward and embarrassed than Martin had. Sasha blinked, and nodded.

“What are we doing now, though?” Tim asked. “We can’t just all immediately vanish into the tunnels.”

“Right, ah, when you guys head back into the institute I suppose I’ll wait down here? I’ll get a bit more out of the way so no one finds me. I mean, odds are good Elias already knows I’m involved, but I think it’d still be better? Right?”

Tim looked deeply unhappy at the thought of leaving Jon alone in the tunnels with the dead worms. It was honestly a bit cute. Jon was right, though, and Sasha knew it, and she knew Tim knew it.

They all left the scuba gear with Jon so they’d look a bit less prepared - it’d be easier to explain not calling 999 and trying to deal with this alone if they could argue a combination of not expecting anyone to believe them about the killer worms waiting to attack them and not thinking the worms would be  _ that _ bad. We know CO 2 kills the worms so we put on some extra layers and tried to deal with it ourselves seemed like a bad plan of regular proportions that the ECDC would probably accept. Sasha didn’t think the ECDC would accept the truth, that they thought they could do a better job because the worms are a manifestation of an eldritch fear monster and they’re better prepared than professional exterminators or whatever would be.

-

Tim ignored the person checking him over to keep an eye on Sasha while their horrible boss walked over to her. He only had the three worm holes - it wasn’t like making sure they weren’t too deep and putting bandaids on them would take much input on his part. Instead, he watched Elias’ fake concern with a feeling of disgust, and tried to convince himself that if Elias tried to pull anything he’d be in a position to stop him.

“Tim? I have some paperwork I need you to fill out for me so I can get this whole incident sorted.”   
  
Tim blinked and looked over at Rosie. He had half a mind to snap at her - he had just been attacked by worms,  _ surely _ she could apply a  _ little _ tact. Then again, she was probably under a lot of stress as well. And besides, she’d always been a bit rude. If she hadn’t changed in all the time she’d been working at the institute, that probably wouldn’t change much now. The easiest way to deal with her was, as always, to just get whatever she needed over with and to try not to be too irritated.

… Maybe sometimes she was in a better mood, he supposed. Tim could remember, vaguely, some sort of laughing conversation with Rosie, at some point. But on the whole? She’d never been the sort of person he’d want to be friends with. He honestly wasn’t sure why he’d been talking to her enough to know what her laugh sounded like. It didn’t feel like he’d been trying to help her be a bit more sociable, or whatever. Had she sought him out? No, she’d never seek someone out for social purposes.

Well, there wasn’t much point pondering his relationship with her. He didn’t really feel like spending more time with her, after all.

-

Once Tim, Sasha, and Martin had taken the chairs and left, Jon gingerly spread the worms back out over the space they had all cleared out with his foot, so it wasn’t obvious something had happened, and then wandered off to find somewhere with no worms so he wouldn’t be discovered. He got a few minutes of rest, but then he realized he had someone’s attention. Not Jonah - it wasn’t someone else using the Beholding to Look at him, and anyways even Jon could barely See in the tunnels. The sense came from his own powers, that someone was watching him.

For a second, he assumed it was a worker investigating the worms, and prepared to just move out of the way, before he realized that none of the workers would have any reason to be aware of him before walking up to him - this person was clearly hiding. Then he remembered who was in the tunnels, and sighed. The tunnels did a good job blocking the Beholding, but he could at least See the man watching him.

Leitner flinched as he became visible, and Jon took a little bit of satisfaction and a fair amount of guilt looking at the spike of fear he felt.

“You… Gertrude mentioned you.”

“What’d she say?” Jon wasn’t particularly curious, but he also didn’t particularly care to try and keep the compulsion out of his voice.

“You’re what she would have become, if she’d been less careful about her humanity. A monster feeding on other people’s fears. You always confused her, though, because she couldn’t tell if you actually  _ cared _ about the people you were helping along the way. She thought there was a chance you had some sort of conscience you were trying to appease, but I could never see how you would have become what you are in the first place if you’d had any such conscience. I- ” Leitner cut himself off with a look of surprise, and looked at Jon as if he was trying to make his mind up about something. He caught sight of an eye on Jon’s arm and flinched again.

“You what?” Jon felt like he should probably leave the sad old man alone, but he was tired and stressed and Sasha, Martin, and Tim were off dealing with Jonah and there was nothing he could do, and, well. His self control wasn’t great.

“I thought she should investigate more closely. Figure out what you were trying to do. With how little information we had, there could have been any number of reasons for what you were doing and assuming you weren’t a danger just because there were no obvious signs you were was rash. We had no way to tell that you weren’t working with Elias and you were clearly very powerful - if she confronted him and it turned out you were on his side that could have been the end. You teamed up with the current Archivist and I assumed that was a sign Elias had gotten you on board to help him with whatever he was trying to do but then you did  _ seem _ concerned about their wellbeing- ”

Jurgen Leitner didn’t have any useful information for him. Except a statement, but after Prentiss Jon wasn’t really hungry. He was at least mature enough by now to acknowledge when he was just taking his anger out on someone. This just left one thing he  _ did _ need to know.

“Are you a threat to myself or Sasha and her assistants?”

“Even if I  _ were _ the type to fight, I don’t think there would be much I could do. No, I intend to continue as I have, and keep hiding. Not Elias, then?”

Jon didn’t bother to respond before walking off, leaving Leitner to go hide and cower in whatever corner he was staying in. Leitner was probably at least smart enough to see that Jon had no concern for Jonah’s wellbeing, and he couldn’t do much that would be worth putting up with him long enough to clarify Jon’s loyalties and intentions. He wasn’t a threat, and unless he suddenly became useful, Jon was content to leave him to his own devices.

-

“Sasha, do we really…” Martin trailed off. 

He could see how it would be reasonable to complain about being stopped from leaving in order to give a statement, and Sasha had outright agreed that Tim was right that they should protest as if they didn’t know how statements actually worked, but… arguing with his boss, even if it  _ was _ Sasha, was hard. It would make sense for him to still agree quickly, right? Protesting  _ too _ much would still draw attention.

Tim had no such problems when Sasha went to get his statement, making his complaints increasingly loud and dramatic while Sasha tried to hide a smile.

“ _ Sasha, _ my  _ dear _ boss, I can’t  _ believe _ you’re making me  _ stay here, _ in this building  _ still _ filled with dead worms! At least let Martin and I take a  _ break _ before you interrogate us! I just, I thought you were my  _ friend! _ ”

Sasha snorted at that last part. “Tim, as your  _ friend, _ I am telling you that you have an  _ awful _ memory.”

Tim gasped and clutched his chest, falling into the chair behind him as Sasha laughed outright. Tim had been complaining at first, to be fair, but it had quickly dissolved into this. Martin watched them laugh for a bit, trying to think of a way to join the conversation and berating himself for his bad, awkward ideas, until he heard Tim mention his name.

“Martin! Martin will back me up! Martin, please, Sasha’s bullying me, we have to unite! Archival assistant solidarity?”

“Hmm…” Martin pretended to think about it, dragging out the moment. “You know, Tim, as much as I’d  _ love _ to side with you…”

Tim gasped in exaggerated horror.

“...  _ That _ would mean siding against  _ Sasha, _ and I’m afraid I just can’t do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JURGEN LEITNER? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER
> 
> STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JURGEN LEITNER I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP BOOKS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL EFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME
> 
> if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jurgen leitners waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down
> 
> if i have to deal with jurgen leitner speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive
> 
> i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects books but i am just mad because i am angy
> 
> he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham  
> BETTER have had a book made him kill a man cause if he didnt im going to make him  
> paypal.com/ifuckinghatejurgenleitner  
> episodes not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his library and i lost it
> 
> where the fuck is jurgen leitner if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt
> 
> crusty old man
> 
> ill punch leitner and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final book he kept on him at all times simply titled now you fucked up in ancient yiddish
> 
> im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point
> 
> i hope theres a date given for when jurgen died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone
> 
> everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true books
> 
> \- all of team archives when they meet him
> 
> guys i had to type this by hand because i couldnt find it written out anywhere to copy  
> granted i was super lazy about looking but still


	10. [Monday part 3] unionize the archives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me writing before midnight!! Im so proud of myself

“Ah, there you are. Have you wrapped up what you wanted to get done? I’d like to make sure I’ve been clear enough about what the plan is regarding this whole… incident.”

Douchard’s voice was the absolute last thing Sasha wanted to hear while she was putting Martin and Tim’s statements away so they could leave, and yet, here he was. She turned to face him and saw Tim making faces behind him while Martin looked at Tim with a combination of amusement and concern.

“Were you worried that ‘two weeks of break to recover’ wasn’t specific enough, then? If you’re here to talk about ways to keep the Archives from getting messed up while the worms are being cleared out, I can assure you, the workers doing that won’t be able to make things much worse than they already are.” She’d already had to put up with his smug fake concern over her injury as if she hadn’t been aware of his sick sigh of relief when the worm got her ankle, why wouldn’t he just  _ leave? _

“I did have a bit to say to that effect, yes, but you’re clearly perfectly caught up there. The other topic I meant to ask you about was the knowledge you demonstrated of the worms? It would have been far wiser to call an exterminator, but you all did manage to be fairly prepared. Was anyone else involved? Oh! That Jon creature, of course. Apologies for the intrusion, I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Sasha watched him walk off deeper into the Archives, a bit unnerved.

“... Damn, I forgot he could read minds,” Tim said, frowning after him.

“Is- is there any way to warn Jon?” Martin asked, looking to Sasha.

“I don’t think we need to, honestly. Jon said Douchard can’t see in the tunnels, and Jon was going to head over to the entrance by Tim’s house so we could meet him. I doubt the bastard will go that far and risk getting lost. Let’s just get out of here, yeah guys?”

Tim grinned. “Oh, you  _ know _ I’m on board, boss!”

“I- yeah. Okay.” Martin still seemed worried, but he smiled at her as they all walked out.

-

Tim watched with concern as Jon fidgeted with his cane - it seemed fairly clear to him that whatever Jon thought they needed to be in the tunnels to discuss was something that would hurt Jon to talk about. He couldn’t just suggest they not talk about it, because it was equally clear that this was important information, but he moved his chair so he could put an arm around Jon’s shoulders. Hopefully that would be better than nothing.

“I… ” Jon began. “I know what Jonah’s ritual is, and how it works.”

“The other ritual attempts, you don’t have to worry about. They won’t work, not with people’s current understanding of rituals. It’s, ah, Smirke’s list of entities? It’s good for categorization and sorting, but, well. All the entities are connected. They’re… sort of, one thing, as much as they are fourteen things. Any ritual to bring  _ one _ entity through will fail, because that entity is connected to and part of thirteen other entities, so it will get pulled back.”

Tim felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Jonah’s ritual is to pull through all fourteen, so it will succeed.”

Martin paled visibly, even in the poor lighting of their group in the tunnels.

“He needs someone, ah, bound to the Eye, and marked by every other entity. That’s… that’s his goal for Sasha.”

Sasha whispered, “fuck,” under her breath.

Jon seemed to curl into himself more as he continued, “His plan is, essentially, to have you encounter various entities, in hopes that you will be… hurt, by each entity while becoming… less human, more of the Eye, as you go. And then, he has, a- a statement, and, and, you. You  _ won’t _ be able to stop  _ reading. _ You’ll  _ Know, _ what’s coming at the end of it and, and, you, I, I- ”

Jon broke off, hyperventilating, and Tim adjusted how he was sitting to hold Jon closer. Sasha was staring into space a bit blankly, and Martin was looking increasingly flustered with no idea what to do, so Tim made an executive decision.

“Okay, guys. We’re going up to my house for a break. Sasha, if you and Martin could get the chairs I’d really appreciate it.”

With that, he picked Jon up trying to keep his arms from getting in the extra eyes Jon had gotten as he had started panicking, made eye contact with Martin to make sure he had heard, nudged Sasha back into reality, and carried Jon back up to his house.

After maybe half an hour of people shuffling around silently - first bringing their stuff back up from the tunnels, and then trying to get situated in Tim’s living room - Jon was wrapped in blankets and clutching a mug of tea like it was all that keeping him grounded in reality, with his cane propped against a chair someone had stolen from Tim’s dining table so he could reach it if he remembered how to coordinate his limbs to stand up. Tim and Martin both sat on the couch with him, Tim having set his tea down at some point and now wondering where it was and Martin having drunk his entire mug more like he was doing shots as if it would calm him down faster that way. Sasha, sitting on a chair because she didn’t like contact when she was stressed, was the only person actually drinking her tea at a reasonable rate.

Sasha was the first to speak. “Guys, I’ve realized something.”

“What?” Tim’s voice only sounded a little choked at the prospect of  _ even more _ to deal with, and when he was less stressed he thought he might be proud of that.

“Douchard isn’t paying us enough.”

There was a second of silence as Tim, and presumably Martin, tried to figure out what sort of terrible, world-ending, plan Sasha could be alluding to, before he noticed the small smile on Sasha’s face and snorted.

“He should give us all  _ such _ big raises, honestly.”

“He’s rich, isn’t he?” Martin almost looked like he wasn’t two seconds away from a stress induced heart attack.

“Yeah, I’ve  _ seen _ his finances. For someone with spooky knowing powers he’s  _ terrible _ at computer security.”

Tim stared at her. “Sasha, you should  _ give us _ raises. Like, from his computer.”

“What’s he going to do,  _ fire us? _ ” Martin asked, laughter in his voice.

Tim felt a shift from the pile of blankets Jon was wrapped in, and then he heard Jon’s voice - he was almost whispering, but he was speaking. “…I think I could Know his bank account information.”

There was another second of silence while everyone processed that, and then laughter. Maybe it was a bit hysterical from the stress, but Tim would take what he could get.

-

Martin had been going to stay with Tim, Sasha remembered. But now,  _ Jon _ was sleeping on Tim’s couch, which was where Martin had been going to sleep.

“Hey, guys?” Sasha asked. “What are we doing for sleeping arrangements with Jon and Martin?”

“Ah, I can sleep in the tunnels? It’s probably safest, to avoid Jonah…” Jon trailed off at the looks on Tim and Martin’s faces, and Sasha snorted to herself at them.

“If the worms didn’t get into the room I’d been staying in- ” Martin didn’t even get to finish his suggestion before the obvious disapproval of everyone else cut him off.

“Martin could come stay with me but I honestly don’t have a very big apartment,” Sasha said, but she could see Tim settling on a decision and knew that if he decided to be stubborn about it - which he would - whatever decision he had settled on would probably be the one they would go with.

“I’ve got an air mattress, but it’s a bit leaky - no,” Tim said, cutting off Jon and Martin as they simultaneously tried to offer to sleep on the mattress. “It’s  _ my _ shitty mattress and  _ I _ decide who sleeps on it. I’ll sleep on the mattress. If you two are so desperate to sleep somewhere uncomfortable, you can fight over the couch.”

“If I brought over a sleeping bag, could I stay here too? Seems like a bad time to be splitting up our little group.”

“Sash, you can, should, must, and will come join the sleepover at my apartment.” Tim smiled at her while Jon and Martin, true to form, both tried to insist that the other should get to sleep on Tim’s bed, they’d be fine with just the couch, really, you need it more, it’s  _ fine, _ please take the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt want to write either perspective so i skipped this scene but for your information leitner thought elias was looking for him, panicked, and used his buried leitner to change the tunnels up a bit, elias almost got lost, succeeded at literally nothing, and had to climb up through the archives several hours later bedraggled dirty and tired. I would say something positive about leitner but he spent the entire time running around like the sad and pathetic old man he is and also i hate him a lot. Anyways elias can get fucked.
> 
> Also i couldn’t fit this but the second tim went to leave martin’s brain latched on to tim’s suggestion of getting their stuff as How To Be Helpful and he tried to grab both the lanterns plus all four of the chairs (including the one sasha was on and almost dumped her on the floor which startled her out of her own panic) and sasha had to get him to stop panicking for long enough to let her carry some things too because when she tried to take a lantern from him to help him he broke down crying
> 
> Everyone was stressed and then jon revealed that elias was planning to put sasha in danger repeatedly to end the world (that’s why he’d been so invested in them stopping the unknowing fuck and they’d been walking right into that) and implied that elias had already tried and nearly succeeded with him and also manifested more eyes because he was losing control and the eyes are tied to a fear entity that makes people afraid so the whole thing was a clusterfuck basically.


	11. [Monday part 4] this is a temporary arrangement they think. well all go back to living separately in a bit they think. i have to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is fueled entirely by my emotional wants and needs

In the end, Martin managed to convince Jon to take the bed. Jon tried to argue that Martin needed it because he had been injured, but Martin wasn’t the one with chronic pain and he got Tim and Sasha to back him up - the conversation didn’t last long after that. Sasha took her sleeping bag into Tim’s room, where Jon was, while Tim and Martin set up the couch and the mattress to be something people could actually sleep on. No one suggested closing the door to Tim’s room - even that small amount of extra isolation seemed nearly unimaginable.

“Jon, if you’re going to roll off the bed and land on me I’m warning you now I can be surprisingly spiky,” Martin heard Sasha say from where she was folding up some blankets under her sleeping bag as a makeshift mattress.

“I’m not planning to do that so you don’t have to worry much.”

“ _ Much? _ ”

“Well, I might always change my mind…”

“TIM!” Sasha called, raising her voice to make sure Martin and Tim could hear from the other room, “JON’S POKING ME WITH HIS FOOT!”

“Children, please, take pity on your poor, single father. I have not enough space to keep us all comfortable nor enough money to provide for my family, I- ” Tim broke off with a mock offended look towards his room where Jon and Sasha had started laughing. “At least Martin appreciates me!”

“Please father, may I have some bread crumbs? I am so hungry after working in the mines all day and I think I may faint!” Martin asked in his best - his worst - impression of a pitiful Victorian child.

“I am sorry, my son. You should hope to manage some rest whilst fainted, for I can do naught to alleviate your suffering. At this rate we shall have to eat your TRAITOR SIBLINGS to manage our expenses!”

“How am  _ I _ taking up expenses?! I don’t even eat  _ food! _ ”

“Jon! You would just  _ abandon _ me like this?  _ Betray _ me and leave me to  _ die?! _ ”

“ _ I _ wasn’t even the one being rude to our kindly poor father Timothy! Why do I have to be associated with that?!”

There was a thud from the bedroom and Martin assumed that Jon and Sasha had ended up mock fighting over Jon’s betrayal. He laughed at their fake outrage as he finished arranging his blankets to sleep.

-

Sasha turned the expression Jon had made when she had accused him of leaving her to die over in her head. He’d frozen up for a second at that, and she’d worried that their joking had ended up someplace bad for him, but he’d seemed to recover fine. Once things quieted down, though, he’d been quiet, but in a sadder way than before.

Douchard’s plan with her had been to frame her encounters with the entities as helping people, such as stopping the Unknowing, so that she’d always see whatever danger he was pushing her towards as the preferable option, despite her lack of trust in him. It might not even have been too difficult to keep her too busy and overwhelmed to have much time for her own research, and he only needed to keep her in the dark - heh - for long enough to get his ritual together. How long would that have taken?

She’d have thought his ritual would be a huge hassle to set up, with how long Gertrude had been Archivist, but the problem he’d had with her probably wasn’t the marks so much as her grasp on her humanity. Jon didn’t have that, and he was… he was young. He knew all of Douchard’s ritual, up through the final step, and his panic trying to describe that - he’d said  _ ‘I’ _ when he’d started hyperventilating. Douchard had known Gertrude wouldn’t work, and tried setting up his ritual with someone else?

It’d explain how much of a mess Jon was - he’d been put in a position of repeatedly trying to help people in situations where people’s survival was an incredibly small chance and then found out that the whole thing was him being used to end the world. As far as she could tell, though, he only had the worm scars - had he been that safe the whole time? That’d explain the guilt even better, if he thought he’d been too cowardly to save someone.

Whatever the specifics were, it was pretty obvious that he’d been used and hurt by Douchard. Sasha knew Tim and Martin would come to that same conclusion. They’d need to find a way to protect him.

-

Tim ignored Sasha’s shout of annoyance as she tripped over the corner of his mattress for the third time. The positioning was awkward, sure, but it was the only place it fit and everyone except for Jon had tripped over it at least a couple times. At first he’d been a bit concerned, but as it had become apparent that no one was actually getting  _ injured, _ and it was in fact just an inconvenience, he’d started tuning people out so he could finish getting ready to sleep.

“If y’all want some more space, you could at least help with rent,” he called over his shoulder.

“I have… two lint!” Jon said. “And… some eyes, but the eyes are all stuck to me.”

“I can help with that!”

“Sasha, no!” Martin sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or extremely concerned. “Do you take tears, Tim? Because my financial situation is… not entirely great.”

“I regret to inform you guys that my landlord does not accept lint, eyes,  _ or _ tears. I appreciate the offers, though!”

“I’ve got money but I don’t really want to  _ pay _ to be stuck in the same building as you - sorry, Tim!”

“Sasha! If you kill him, where will Martin and I stay?” Jon stepped over the mattress without looking again, to everyone else’s consternation. Cheating with his Eye powers, Tim presumed.

“ _ You’re _ a traitor, Jon, don’t think I’ve forgotten. But  _ I suppose _ I can leave Tim alive, for Martin.”

This was… nice. He’d been a bit uncertain about how he’d feel, with three other people in his flat with him, but it was nice. For the first time since- for the first time in several years, his flat was starting to feel like a place he could actually look forward to returning to. Of course, this would only last until a better solution was found for Jon and Martin, and Sasha would be going back to her own flat before then, and then his flat would be empty and hollow again, but until then, until then he could enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck it [procrastinates my spanish homework]


	12. [Tuesday part 1] hewwo sowwy fow the wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys leave shenanigans in the comments i want to write fluff for the team archives sleepover and i need ideas

Jon woke up refreshed and calm, and, he realized, he was actually kind of looking forward to the day for once. Martin and Tim were laughing as they tried to figure out how to make breakfast for four in spite of the fact that yesterday had been the day Tim usually would go grocery shopping, and he’d forgotten. Sasha was on the couch Martin had been sleeping on, gazing blearily into a cup of coffee while she waited for her brain to start working. She wasn’t awake enough to realize that she had to  _ drink _ the coffee for the caffeine to work. Jonah couldn’t even  _ See _ him right now, he Knew.

Jonah couldn’t See him?

He Knew the answer as soon as he’d thought the question. With Jon and Sasha - two avatars of the Eye - together in the same place, that was more than enough. Jonah couldn’t See because it would be redundant for the Eye. It didn’t matter if  _ Jonah _ didn’t Know, because the Eye did. That was… reassuring? He didn’t really have any way to escape the ever-present gaze of the Eye anyways, and this was better than it could be.

Tim’s bed was comfortable, and the people he cared for were safe and happy, at least for the time - well, most of them.

Daisy growled-

Basira turned a corner, gun in her hand-

Melanie was filming-

Georgie spoke into a mic-

The Admiral was curled in a sunbeam, resting, half asleep. His ears perked up vaguely at Jon’s attention, but apparently, even still, he could recognize his Jon. Jon Knew - and just knew - that the Admiral’s disgruntlement was less at how Jon was now, and more at the fact that Jon was bothering him without even being close enough for pets. Having  _ some _ attention being paid to him, though, was better than nothing in the moment, and Jon could almost feel the Admiral purring.

Jon kept his attention on the Admiral until he felt a little calmer, at least somewhat more able to avoid Looking at people on accident. His day wasn’t perfect, sure, but. He already knew he couldn’t solve all his problems on his own. He  _ certainly _ couldn’t solve all of his problems as a burnt-out wreck. Surely he could be happy today? Besides, none of their lives had fallen apart yet.

… Except Daisy, arguably, but he wasn’t about to throw her into the coffin and she  _ was _ happy right now, for a given value of happiness.

No. He wasn’t going to get anywhere thinking about what things were bad and what problems could happen and all the places he’d failed. He was going to have a day where he could be happy. At the very least, that was something Georgie  _ and _ Daisy had both been trying to get him to do anyways. He  _ did _ know how to learn, even if he only ever managed it too late.

-

Sasha felt a prickle on the back of her neck and Knew Jon was awake. Immediately afterwards, she Knew caffeine only worked when ingested, and fumbled with her hands for a second before she managed to take a sip of her coffee - she only missed her mouth once, and didn’t end up spilling any, which was pretty good for her.

Jon turned to focus on something else, and Sasha decided to follow his lead instead of trying to find her glasses and walk to a different room in her half-asleep state, and Looked into the kitchen to see how breakfast was going.

It was… going. She was too sleepy still to process how what she was looking at related to progress, and the Eye wasn’t much help - it wouldn’t be, even if she were more powerful - but Martin was doing something with eggs on the stove and Tim was walking across the kitchen with some spices - and Tim was dumping spices all over the floor? Oh, wait, that was an accident, she knew that much.

“Boss! You startled me!”

Sasha tried to apologize, realized almost too late that she had coffee in her mouth, overcorrected, and choked on her coffee. Once she stopped coughing, though, the shock had woken her up enough that she felt stable enough on her feet to physically move to the kitchen to reassure Tim and Martin and also to find out how worried she should be about breakfast. She considered getting Jon, but he was awake, and he knew (and Knew) where they all were. He could decide for himself when he was ready to be conscious.

-

Martin flinched a little at the feeling of being watched, but at least he hadn’t startled as badly as Tim. His pan had all of Tim’s eggs in it, and if  _ that _ had gone on the floor they’d have had to come up with  _ another _ meal that could be made with Tim’s limited ingredients. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened, and Tim had plenty of spices, so they could still manage enough omelettes for four. Three? Jon didn’t eat food, but then he  _ had _ been eating the pancakes when Martin and Sasha had first arrived at Tim’s place on Sunday - Tim would know, and he’d said omelettes for four, so that was probably right. Martin had absolutely no opinion on the fact that Tim knew more about taking care of Jon than he did.

No opinions here, no siree. If anything, it was  _ good _ that Tim knew that about Jon. Besides, nothing was stopping him from learning, too! It was fine!

He didn’t have to lie to himself, however (if, hypothetically, he  _ had _ been lying to himself about some other topic, which he  _ hadn’t _ ), about things being fine once everyone had managed to gather in Tim’s living room (there wasn’t enough room at the dining table for four) to eat their omelettes.

Jon had stumbled in a while after Sasha and given everyone a smile - he had seemed so relaxed and happy, Martin’s heart had just about stopped. There was still something sad in his eyes, but considering everything else that was going on, that was no surprise. Martin made a mental note that he used his cane even for the short distance from Tim’s room to where they were all eating - he’d have to keep an eye on that, Jon seemed the type to manage to forget it anyways.

They all ate in relative peace (if you ignored Tim’s determination to eat everyone’s omelette except his own, and Jon’s subtle dedication to helping him by distracting people), and when everyone’s omelette had been eaten by someone, Martin went to gather up the plates. He was stopped, however, by a hand taking a relatively weak grasp of his wrist.

“You already did the cooking - Sasha and I can clean up,” Jon said, taking the two plates he had picked up from him and glancing at Sasha, who pouted.

“Volunteering  _ me? _ You  _ volunteer _ me to  _ work?? _ Yeah, okay.”

Before he could protest, they’d taken the dishes and left for the kitchen to clean up, and he was left with nothing to do besides sit next to Tim.

-

Jon was quiet while they were cleaning up from breakfast, but it seemed less like the peaceful silence he had had while they were eating and more worried and thoughtful. A couple of times she thought he might say something, but he cut himself off before even saying part of a word. It was a bit concerning, or at least, it should have been, Sasha thought. Here Jon was, trying to figure out how to bring something up, after already having described the potential  _ end _ of the world - what  _ more _ difficult conversations could he have to start? She was kind of curious.

-

Jon didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to explain, what he knew, what had happened (would have happened? No, wouldn’t happen. That was important). Jonah Magnus couldn’t see him. He could speak freely, now, if only he could start the conversation. If only he could find the words.

It was tempting, continuing on without acknowledging the time traveling elephant in the room that only he knew existed, but. It was so difficult, sometimes, seeing these people who were  _ almost _ the people he knew. He knew how well keeping secrets ended for him - it ended terribly, was how it ended - but it was tempting, to just avoid the conversation.

After everything was cleaned up, though, and everyone was back in the same room, Jon made up his mind to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Hi im from the future’ conversations give me so much second hand anxiety so im giving up on including the part of it before i cut for the chapter  
> Just like. Assume the entire thing was awkward. Also jon isnt admitting that he and martin were together because he doesnt want to put martin in that position. Just says they were friends. Dont worry though tim and sasha can put together some braincells between the two of them.  
> were approaching operation Acquire The Rest Of Jons Friends!!


	13. [Tuesday part 2] just a heads up i switched chapters 3 and 4

Well, that was fucked up.

Tim couldn’t even bring himself to feel glad that Elias couldn’t See them right now, considering the rest of Jon’s story.

It certainly made sense that he was such a mess, now.

Jon had picked up his cane to fidget with, where he was curled up into a corner of the couch, all of his eyes trained determinedly on the handle as he twirled it between his hands. Martin and Sasha were - well, they probably weren’t fine  _ in general, _ but they could deal with that themselves. They were fine  _ enough _ that Tim wasn’t too worried about them.

It had been a bit funny, actually, seeing Martin’s face when Jon said they’d spent three weeks living in a cottage in Scotland together, and then traveled the apocalypse together. Jon hadn’t said anything about their relationship past the fact that they were close, but Tim had at least one braincell, so he had a suspicion about that.

Tim had looked over at Martin because watching Jon break down blaming himself had been too much. It still hurt to think about everything Jon had been through - he’d have to take some time on his own to reflect on what Jon had said about  _ him _ before reacting to any of that - but as much as it had hurt  _ him _ to watch, it had hurt  _ Jon _ more to actually go through it.

Would it be better to keep the serious tone, address things dead on, or should Tim make a joke, break the tension, give everyone a chance to think and space to breathe? Was this a conversation that would benefit more from time to think or not having to bring the topic up? Maybe both - he’d hold humor in reserve, for when it seemed like people needed an excuse for a lighter conversation.

“Hey, Jon?”

Tim felt a couple of eyes glance up at him for a second before Jon tried to curl even more into himself, as if to hide behind his cane.

“I’m here, yeah? I’m not leaving. I’m not going to try to hurt you, either.”

“...Why not? I de-”

“Jon. You  _ don’t _ deserve that. You didn’t then, and you don’t now. Yeah, okay, you fucked up. You made mistakes. The whole  _ situation _ was a fucking disaster from the start. Just because, looking back, there were choices you  _ could _ have made to make things slightly less shitty doesn’t mean- I- what happened was  _ entirely _ disproportionate to the mistakes you made.”

Jon relaxed slightly, all of his eyes fixed on Tim and wide open with shock. Tim shifted slightly closer to Jon, but stopped when Jon flinched.

“You betrayed - his? my? whatever - that trust, sure, dealing with paranoia from the Eye and the Stranger and your absolute inability to trust people, but, honestly? Even if I  _ wasn’t _ so convinced you were absolutely dedicated to not making that mistake again, I’d probably forgive you anyways. And, I  _ am _ convinced you’ll do better. I  _ do _ forgive you, Jon, for the parts of that disaster that would actually need forgiveness. It wasn’t all your fault, but I forgive you for the parts that were. I don’t… actually know if I’m in a position to do that, but I’m the Tim that’s here, so.”

When Tim went to move closer to Jon this time, Jon didn’t flinch. Maybe because he was too busy crying to notice, but Tim would take what he could get. Tim gathered Jon up in his arms, noticing in the back of his mind that Jon did, in fact, cry from  _ all _ of his eyes and that they would probably both need dry clothes after this, and then he didn’t bother to think about that any more, and rubbed circles on Jon’s back.

-

That… was a lot.

Sasha wasn’t even sure where to begin, to be honest. Jonah Douchard couldn’t See her, apparently, so writing some notes to sort out her thoughts would be an option, if she could even sort her thoughts enough to pick one word to write first - she couldn’t write everything she was thinking simultaneously, after all. No, she could do this. The most important thing - the one ritual that  _ would _ work - if they hadn’t known - Tim - no, focus. They could stop that. Sasha wrote ‘eye ritual’ at the top of the page, and made a messy, disorganized list of everything she knew connected to it, trying to slow her thoughts down enough to actually write them.

The eye ritual needed someone strongly tied to the eye - like herself, or Jon - oh,  _ Jon _ \- focus - and marked by all the entities. As long as no one tied to the eye got all the marks, they would be fine. That wasn’t going to be remotely  _ easy, _ but at least it was simple. Relatively easy to keep track of.

Another priority - Jonah Douchard himself. Also, the other ritual attempts couldn’t end the world, but they still could hurt  _ so many _ people, and apparently one  _ did _ give Douchard powers? Could be good to try preventing those, as well. Except, of course, that could lead to marks. Probably  _ would _ lead to marks, with how invested Douchard was in getting them to stop rituals. Could they help people? Blah blah not the purpose of the institute - the head of the institute’s a bitch, no reason they had to stick to the job titles  _ he _ assigned. But, again, marks from entities.

Back to Douchard. Honestly, if she hadn’t just been warned that killing him would kill all of them as well, she might’ve just tried to kill him outright. She would’ve felt bad, probably, because killing a person didn’t sound like a pleasant experience, no matter who it was, but she probably would’ve done it regardless. With things as they were, her intentions weren’t actually very different. She just needed to figure out  _ how _ to kill him first.

Did this mean they could take the institute and just… do whatever with it? Make it into something different? What about the other staff, though? Actually, keeping the other staff safe was definitely a priority. They knew even less than the Archives staff had about what they’d gotten involved in. Could they quit? Should she tell them so they can make informed decisions or just make something up to get them all out? She wanted to tell the truth, but convincing them might be more trouble than it would be worth. Hang on, focus. What to do about Jonah Douchard.

If his position was similar to hers, killing him would be fine and he was either lying or wrong. Jon had said that the assistants could quit when the Archivist dies, so the assistants were tied to her in such a way that her death would free them? And then everyone was tied to Douchard. If it was structured the same, his death would free everyone. That would be a big risk, though, unless she could find a way to test that.

It might be worth trying to contact someone affiliated with the Web, actually, seeing as they were the ones who bound Gertrude and Agnes. That was another death of one person frees whoever’s tied to them sort of binding, come to think of it. Well, optimistically, that would be how their tie to Douchard worked, and they wouldn’t need anything complicated. The first step was obvious - they needed to know how they were tied to him. They had  _ two weeks _ of break, though. It would probably be a good idea to get some rest.

Then again, the  _ other _ staff weren’t on break,  _ they _ might be in danger. Maybe the first priority should be figuring out if she should do something - and what that something would be - about the other staff?   
  


Although, maybe figuring out what to do about Douchard would make that obvious…

-

Scotland.

A cabin, in Scotland.

For  _ three weeks! _

_ Him! _ In Scotland in a cabin with  _ Jon! _

Jon  _ saved him from the Lonely! _

His depression was  _ cured _ his crops were  _ watered _ -

Wait, that was basically exactly what had happened, wasn’t it?

When he had spent  _ three weeks _ in a  _ cottage _ in  _ Scotland _ with  _ Jon!! _

-

After a while, Tim had needed to get up and stretch his legs, but Jon didn’t move. He was still a bit in shock, in all honesty. Tim knew what Jon had done to him, Tim knew the monster Jon had turned into, and Tim had stayed. Had said it wasn’t even all Jon’s fault! Had  _ forgiven _ him! And Martin, and Sasha, they were both here too. He kind of thought he might start crying again. His clothes were already soggy, it wasn’t like he could make it much worse.

Sasha shifted, and he blinked some of his eyes shut now that he was feeling a bit more stable and looked over at her with the rest of them as she got up. Martin had startled earlier when Tim had gotten up, and left with him to go for a walk. Jon hadn’t mentioned his relationship with  _ his _ Martin, but he assumed he’d made Martin feel uncomfortable anyways. They could talk about that later, though, he thought as Sasha sat down with him.

“How’re you doing?”

“Ah, I, I’m doing better, now. Now that I’ve spoken to Tim. He was… He was really nice. I- Do you- hm. If you have questions about the future, or something…?”

“No, I was actually- I was actually wondering about your friends? If you wanted to try and contact any of them?”

Daisy was with Basira, investigating a case that would turn out to be a false report. Daisy knew it, but her only proof was the absence of the blood roaring in her ears that would accompany any meaningful chase, and she didn’t want to admit that to Basira. She was a Hunter, had never for a second even considered being anything else. She had the chase, and she had Basira at her side, and that was all.

Jon distantly heard Sasha asking him something, but he couldn’t make out what.

Melanie was sleeping in, she was exhausted from filming last night all the way into the morning. She normally had a late schedule, but she was letting herself sleep in even later today. Her plan was to go back to waking up on time tomorrow, though it would probably take her a few days to convince herself to go back to her usual sleep schedule. It wasn’t like her job had a strict nine to five schedule, after all. That was definitely one of its virtues. She had always been an angry person, that much was true, but she had none of the anger of the Slaughter. She hadn’t been to the scrap yard, hadn’t been to India.

He was shaking, he thought.

Georgie noticed the prickle of eyes on the back of her skull, but she wasn’t afraid, obviously. Not feeling fear didn’t mean her mind wouldn’t misinterpret sensations, though, and she wrote it off and didn’t think further. If it reminded her of someone, that was just because she had been thinking about him recently. She went back to what she was doing, which was-

No, stop.

Stop!

Georgie didn’t want him Knowing things about her, she wanted to be left  _ out _ of all the spooky nonsense! Melanie had escaped, too- no, not yet, she  _ hadn’t _ escaped but she shouldn’t  _ have _ anything to escape from right now! He couldn’t- couldn’t just go  _ doing _ these sorts of things to people, Basira would- no, she wouldn’t.  _ Daisy _ would, though, which was arguably worse.

“-on? Jon?”

Sasha was afraid. Not  _ of _ the man she was sitting next, but for him. He’d spaced out a bit, and she’d assumed that it had just been a rough question, which, well, made sense. She’d been hoping he’d just needed some time to think and some peace, but he’d started shaking slightly. When she’d tried to change the subject, he hadn’t responded. He wasn’t breathing, now, and she didn’t know how much of a problem that was, but he still wasn’t respon- oh, that’s me, Jon thought, and took a shaky breath.

“I- I’m o-”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha began, “if you’re about to try and tell me you’re okay, I am giving you this one chance to rethink that.”   
  
“Oh. Ah, I’m not okay, then, but I’m doing… better?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“The not breathing was fine, really, I only need the air to talk, actually, so-”

Sasha snorted. “Nah, I’m messing with you. Sorry ‘bout the topic, that looked a bit rough.”

“Yeah, it- I was, ah, not on great terms with many people towards the end there, and Daisy, well, you know how she is right now, I guess. It’s just, I think about them, and then I Know things, but I don’t  _ want _ to because they wanted  _ privacy _ and I  _ try _ to stop, I  _ do, _ it’s just, the more I panic, well. It’s a bit of a cycle. I suppose I haven’t actually burned those bridges yet, though, even if they might not all be as accepting as Tim. I- I have to admit, I do miss them -  _ all _ of them - but, what am I supposed to do? Put Daisy  _ back _ in the Buried? I couldn’t, couldn’t do that to her. Ah, that was a lot. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it! We’re friends, yeah? I  _ want _ to help.”

-

Martin and Tim had been walking aimlessly for a while, and his face was still  _ beet _ red.

“So…” Tim began, with a smirk that told Martin  _ exactly _ where this conversation was headed. “Just a sort of  _ friendly _ living in a cabin together for three weeks, or do you think Jon left a bit out there?”

Knowing where Tim was planning to go and being  _ prepared _ for the topic were two  _ entirely _ different things, as it turned out, and Martin felt his face somehow manage to turn even redder.

“I- you- agh! Tim, even if, even if he  _ did, _ that was- that wasn’t me! I mean, it was,  _ kind of, _ but, like,  _ so much _ different! I’m not-  _ I’m _ not the person he, he  _ saved _ from the Lonely, I didn’t, didn’t help him through the  _ actual apocalypse! _ Tim, I’m just  _ me! _ I- fuck, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. It’s fine, really, I’m just making a fuss out of nothing.”

He’d known Tim wouldn’t believe him that it was all fine before he even tried to say it was all fine, but. He still couldn’t bring himself to dump all this on Tim with everything Tim himself had to deal with. He  _ could _ deal with this on his own. All he had to do was convince Tim of that. Then again, maybe he could… not? If Tim wanted to help, maybe he could let him? They were friends, after all. Apparently trying to deal with everything on his own had led indirectly to the apocalypse, so.

But what if Tim was just humoring him? If Tim didn’t actually want to deal with all of that on top of everything else but felt pressured to? What if Tim resented him for making everything harder? Tim didn’t really have a hard time telling people when he had a problem with them, though. He wasn’t one to hide his feelings and avoid conflict.

“You’re- I’m sorry. I was going to say, you’ve both got obvious crushes on each other, but I can see why you wouldn’t be sure if he’s actually got a crush on  _ you. _ I still think you two should talk about your feelings, though.”

“I- ”

“Have self worth issues larger than the continent? Absolutely. You  _ do _ realize, I hope, that there’s absolutely no reason Jon  _ wouldn’t _ have a crush on you, the Martin of this timeline, specifically. Do you want me to ask?”

Martin stammered for a couple of seconds, trying to think of something to say, before giving up and glaring at Tim, half hoping his bright red face might be read as anger.

“Actually, though, I could use some spare hands for grocery shopping. You know, if you want to avoid a certain someone for a bit longer. Here,  _ I’ll _ even be the one to text him to ask how much food we should get for him. Him and Sasha are going to have to go to the institute for statements, though, we can’t find the real ones easily enough.”

Tim’s offer to text Jon had probably been about as genuine as it had been teasing, but either way, well, Martin did want to be the one to text. Even if it wasn’t much, he still did have a crush the size of the self worth problems Tim had accused him of.

“I’ll… do it. The text! I’ll text.” Nailed it.

“Oh you  _ will, _ will you? Do you have his number?”   
  
Tim had Jon’s  _ phone number? _ Of course he did, Jon had been staying at his house.

  
“Do you want me to give it to you so you can text him?”   
  
“Oh! Yes! I mean, yeah, that’d be great, thanks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't have any funny notes just wanted to say I realized when I was labeling the chapters by days that I forgot Saturday so I had to make a fake Saturday out of things I'd meant to have happen on Friday
> 
> anyways rip jonny sims trying to have a timeline for 200 episodes I couldn't manage five chapters


	14. [Tuesday part 3] this is half of the chapter I meant to write but I want validation so

Jon knew, technically, how he had gotten in this situation.

Tim and Martin had gotten back from shopping for food, and Jon had offered to help put it all away. Sasha had offered to help as well, but Tim had mentioned that they hadn’t gotten any statements because neither he nor Martin could easily tell which ones were true. So, Sasha had gone to get statements. Tim had gone with her, to help carry. Because they all hadn’t eaten since breakfast, lunch needed to be made. Tim and Sasha were out. Therefore, Jon and Martin were in the kitchen, making sandwiches.

Emotionally, though? He did not understand.

The sandwiches didn’t actually take very long, but when they were done, Jon realized it would have been better if they had. Now, they were just sitting in the living room, waiting for Tim and Sasha to come back, in silence.

He hadn’t mentioned that he’d been dating  _ his _ Martin, but he hadn’t been able to avoid saying that they’d been close. He’d probably made Martin, this Martin, feel even more awkward. He certainly  _ looked _ awkward.

“Ah, in the, the future, Jon? What… no, never mind.” Martin curled in on himself a bit.

Jon had actually learned a bit of awareness of people’s emotions. If he ever ended up talking to Georgie, somehow, he’d have to remember to leave out that it had practically taken the literal apocalypse to get there. That being said, he had, in fact, gotten there, and he was fairly confident that Martin wasn’t brushing this aside because it didn’t matter, but because he was anxious. He was not, however, good enough at this to know if he should let Martin drop it, or if he should try to say something so Martin would feel comfortable enough to speak.

Of course, given no other direction, he was left to his instincts, and his instincts, as always, were to pry.

“Did you- ah- if you were curious about something, I’d be happy to tell you.” He tried to look purely earnest and concerned, and not as if the not knowing would drive him up the wall if Martin didn’t elaborate.

“It’s not- I mean, of course I  _ wonder, _ it’s just, hearing you talk about that all, it’s not  _ me, _ I mean, sure we’re both  _ Martin _ but he- it’s not really a big deal, I guess, it just bugs me a bit, hearing things that supposedly happened to me.  _ I’m _ me, those things didn’t happen to me. It’s… you don’t have to worry.”

“I think… it’s not so much that anyone’s forgetting that you haven’t done any of that, it’s just that you could, potentially, do those things. It’s… you’re a very strong person.” Was that right? He knew he wasn’t great at comforting people, but he was the only one here, and, well. He didn’t want Martin to be upset. Martin looked worse, not better, though. Damnit.

“I  _ know _ I might, but what if I  _ don’t? _ What if I don’t end up being that person? What if I don’t  _ want _ to? What if… what if, compared to him, I’m just not enough? If I’m just… the worse one?”

Oh. That made sense. He… hadn’t even considered that, but. Now that Martin had said it, he saw the problem. Jon hoped he could put the words together to help Martin see that he was great, in and of himself.

“You’re right, that you’re not my Martin, and you’re not going to be him, and honestly? I don’t expect you to be him. You- you, Martin, that I’ve just met recently, are… are a really very good person.  _ You’re _ the one who was with me, fighting Prentiss’ worms, and  _ you’re _ the one who’s been hanging out with Tim and Sasha and I, and making us all smile, and…  _ you’re _ the one I’m looking forward to getting to know better, I guess. Ah, I mean. It’d be kind of weird, knowing someone who knew an alternate version of you. But if it’s not too weird, I’d like to be, well, friends? If that works for you?”

Martin stared blankly at him for a second, but before Jon could worry, stammered for a couple seconds before managing to get some words out.

“Oh! I- well… yeah, no, um. That works! Friends! We can do that! Absolutely!”

“Great!” Jon responded, smiling. Martin’s cheeks were beet red now, and he looked a bit distressed, but while Jon didn’t know him all that well, yet, he figured it probably wasn’t too bad a sign.

He’d been worried that his feelings would make things awkward - not just that he’d been in love with his Martin, but that he definitely loved this one too, so he was glad to hear they could still be friends. Maybe, maybe there could be something else, eventually, but then again, this wasn’t the Martin that had fallen in love with him. On top of that, loving someone who would probably always be at least a bit in love with an alternate version of you could really only be weird.

-

After Tim and Sasha had gotten back, and everyone had eaten lunch, Sasha pulled Tim aside to talk.

“What are we doing about Gertrude’s body?” She asked.

“Is there a point? Even if we manage to connect the bastard to her death, he just  _ walked _ on out of prison once they finally managed to get him arrested.” Tim sounded angry, which was about what Sasha expected, but he was looking at this the wrong way.

“Yeah, I think that’s a lost cause, at least for now. That being said, the discovery of Gertrude’s body was what brought Basira and Daisy to the institute, and they have resources and skills we don’t. Getting in contact with them could help us, depending on what we decide to do. Also, Jon mentioned Basira fighting Rayner? We should probably aim to have her contact us then, because it seemed like she needed Jon’s information the first time around and we should try to get her that information again.”

“If we just want to talk to them, though, do we have to get suspected for murder?”

“Not  _ really, _ but it’s a way to get them to the institute naturally, or at least kind of naturally. Depending on what we do, we could end up with them thinking  _ we’re _ the threat they need to be worried about.”

Tim snorted. “They suspected  _ Jon _ of Gertrude’s murder. I think the only thing we’d have to do to seem like ‘threats’ would be to breathe. Or not breathe, in Jon’s case.”

“I mean, it was a while ago. Maybe he actually seemed capable enough to kill someone and hide the body, then?”

“It didn’t really sound like that, when he told us what happened, Sash. He kinda sounded like a mess. It’s because he didn’t have you. You died with all the Archive’s braincells.”

Tim winced after saying that, but she laughed. Maybe it was just because she died so early in Jon’s timeline, but she didn’t feel too close to the events he’d related. Her hypothetical death by spooky monster just didn’t feel as important as the events that were actually happening in  _ her _ timeline.

“I’d have assumed Not!Sasha would have inherited my braincells, but from what Jon said, she very clearly did not.”

Tim still didn’t look like he was sure whether or not it was okay to joke about these things, but at least he looked a bit less awkward than he had.

“Honestly, I think her worst crime was convincing everyone you were cis.”

“Agh, yeah. I wonder what my parents thought about that - did they remember thinking they had a son or not? Can you imagine, them trying to reconcile that?”

“Absolute idiots, the both of them. They’re missing out on the coolest daughter anyone could ever have.”   


“Thanks, Tim.”

-

Tim clapped his hands, walking back into the living room where Jon and Martin were studiously pretending that there weren’t immense amounts of tension in the air.

“Alright, guys! We’re building a pillow fort. You can help me by choice, or you can help me by force!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip martin killed by jon accidentally  
> also rip jon accidentally killed his crush
> 
> also! operation acquire jons friends is beginning to form!


	15. [Tuesday part 4 and Wednesday part 1] there was only one pillow fort

The biggest difficulty with the pillow fort turned out not to be putting it up, but rather taking it down. It had ended up relatively massive, including  _ all _ of Tim’s pillows and blankets, as well as the mattress off his bed. It took up most of the living room, having absorbed the couch Martin had slept on and all the floor space Tim might’ve been able to fit his air mattress on without deflating it and rolling it into a little ball.

Initially, Jon had assumed that the solution to this would be to take the pillow fort down when it was time to sleep. By the time it was growing late, however, the pillow fort was approaching a new existence as a work of art and no one wanted to tear it down. So, now they were all trying to figure out how to arrange four grown adults (three and a half, Tim argued, saying Jon was shorter than most teenagers. Two and a half, Jon had countered, saying Tim didn’t count as an adult but rather as a large child) to be able to sleep comfortably in a pillow fort in Tim’s living room.

Sasha, apparently, was perfectly comfortable to curl into a ball, so she got the couch because she was the only one who could fit on the couch without disrupting the arrangement of blankets draped off it. Jon was shorter than her, but he would have kicked everything off the couch before rolling off it himself and landing on his face, so. Sasha got the couch.

Jon’s claustrophobia was too much to ever go all the way into the pillow fort, which conveniently worked well with his tendency to move around while asleep. He just picked up the pillows he’d been sitting on and arranged them so he could lie down on them comfortably - comfortably to him, but after cots in the Archive and sleeping at his desk and just lying directly on the ground wherever he and his Martin stopped once the world had ended, his standards were low. It took a while for him to convince everyone he’d actually be able to sleep without injuring himself, but the pillow fort was too claustrophobic and a sleeping bag would be even worse.

This left Tim and Martin, one sleeping bag that could only fit one person, and the realization that they’d have to either steal some pillows from Jon or dismantle part of the fort for whoever didn’t get the sleeping bag to sleep comfortably. Neither option seemed acceptable.

“Guys, I can go grab some more pillows from my flat.” Sasha interrupted their discussion, rolling her eyes. “I’ll get all the blankets I’ve got so we can expand this tomorrow, too.”

“Sasha,” Tim replied, “you’re a blessing. We’re going to have a pillow  _ castle. _ ”

“Ah, I could run by the storage unit my stuff is in, too? It’s not like I’m using any of it… Were you able to make it in my name or do I have to bring you, Tim? I… wasn’t really paying attention, when we talked about this, with all the… everything…” Martin said.

“ _ Hell yeah, _ Martin, and yeah it’s in your name, no worries.”

“Actually, Jon,” Sasha began.

“Yeah?”

“...Are you going to just wear that shirt every night?”

Jon blinked. “I… guess so?”

“Do you have a problem with the  _ truth, _ Sasha?” Tim glared at her in mock offense.

“He needs variety, Tim! Jon, you need variety! I’ll grab more shirts while I’m back at my flat. Martin, do you have any shirts? This is a crisis, guys!”

Jon laughed in surprise.

“Uh, I’ve got…” Martin rifled through his stuff. “This?” The shirt he held up had a picture of a kitten hanging off a tree branch, with the message,  _ hang in there. _

“A little bit… morbid, considering the context,” Jon said, but he was still laughing under his breath.

“ _ I’m _ in favor,” Tim added.

“I can see if I’ve got anything while I’m grabbing more blankets?”

“ _ Perfect. _ ”

-

Martin woke up to warmth, which registered to his groggy brain as somewhat of a surprise, but he was comfortable and thinking was hard, so he didn’t. Instead, he shifted a little to lie in a more comfortable position, and felt whoever was sprawled across his chest grumble a little as they shifted with him. Whoever was lying next to him moved as well - trying to convince themself to get up. They mumbled something, sounding personally offended at the existence of the morning-

That was Tim’s voice.

That was Tim’s voice, because he was staying at Tim’s flat. They’d been sleeping in the pillow fort they’d all made. He opened his eyes slowly, fairly confident of what he’d see but fearing the knowledge anyways.

Yep, the person lying across him and Tim was Jon.

That was… definitely Jon.

Jon had apparently - in his sleep, right? There was no way he’d done this on purpose while awake - arranged himself so his head was underneath an area the blankets didn’t cover, lying sideways across Tim and Martin.

Tim sucked in a breath, and Martin figured he’d also woken up enough to actually be conscious.

Martin glanced over at him, trying to convey the extent of his terror silently. Tim looked back, silently conveying that if he could talk without waking Jon - and Sasha, who’d apparently crawled down off the couch to lie near Tim, holding his hand - he would be laughing at Martin. Martin thought that was unfair.

Jon mumbled something under his breath and Martin froze even more than he had already been, but Jon didn’t wake up, instead opting to elbow Martin directly in the face with his sharp and bony elbow. Martin looked over to Tim - for sympathy? For help? - just to see that he’d fallen back asleep. Jon placed his hand directly on Martin’s forehead as leverage to shift his entire body about half a meter, and then rolled over so his back was directly across Martin’s face. Martin couldn’t breathe. He didn’t move.

Maybe half an hour later, Jon managed to knee him in the stomach despite not having been lying with his knees near Martin’s stomach. Martin was beginning to have a suspicion as to what had woken him up at - he checked his phone - four in the morning.

He didn’t think he could fall back asleep, but apparently he was still tired, because he woke up later that morning at a more sane time of day, and was faced with the same exact problem for another hour before Jon woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: fuck it [is touchstarved]  
> Also future martin figured out that jon sleeps like hes back in a coma and you can just move him if hes injuring you. just. push him into a less painful arrangement of limbs. pick him up and sling him over your shoulder. he wont wake up. carry him around the cottage for funsies.


	16. [in which i stop caring what day things are happening on] Welcome To The Dialogue Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where i officially decide that whatever happens in canon that isn’t out yet has no power here and the apocalypse is a vague concept that exists more as a plot device in this fic than an actual concrete chain of events. I refuse to figure out what the fuck is going on with the web. If jonny reveals something that doesnt mesh with my story im ignoring it.

“Okay guys, team meeting!” Sasha called, clapping her hands. “Come over here, we need to talk.”

As much as resting for the entire two weeks appealed to her, once the two weeks were up they were all going to need a plan, and they’d only have a good plan if they started now. No one seemed too happy about this, but everyone seemed to agree with her, and that was the most she could ask. Jon wedged himself between Tim and Martin on the sofa, and Sasha decided that she could stand some physical contact and sat on the arm of the sofa so her thigh was up against the side of Tim’s arm.

“We need to do something about Douchard,” she began, but was cut off by Jon poorly disguising a shocked laugh as a cough. She grinned at him, and continued. “We can’t kill him, probably, and I don’t think it’s a risk worth taking, hoping he’s lying or wrong. He’s definitely the biggest threat, though. Even if we survive him, he can just wait us out and then go after someone else after us. We can’t do nothing.”

“If he gets injured, do we all get injured?” Tim asked, his level tone doing absolutely nothing to disguise the ideas behind his question.

“I- no, but,  _ please _ be safe, Tim.” Tim looked a bit guilty at the expression on Jon’s face.

“I will, I was just- curious,” Tim responded.

“Wait, guys?” Martin asked. “Are we trying to find a way to kill Magnus, or something else?”

“Kill him,” Tim and Sasha said simultaneously. Jon blinked a couple of eyes, looking a bit unnerved.

“...I don’t see any other option, really,” he said.

“So, we need to figure out how our connections to him work, and how to get rid of them?” Martin continued.

“Yeah,” Sasha said. “I’ve only been able to think of a couple of examples for people being bound together where we know how death played some part. There’s the Archivist and assistants, where the deaths of the assistants don’t seem to affect the Archivist except emotionally, and the death of the Archivist frees the assistants, and then there’s Gertrude and Agnes. It seems like Agnes’ death didn’t affect Gertrude, but we don’t know how Gertrude’s death might’ve affected Agnes. There’s no guarantee that this is anything like either of those, though.”

“Actually,” Martin said, biting his lip. “With Gertrude and Agnes. Didn’t the Web tie them together? The Web is the entity to do with connections between people, anyways. Maybe they’d know something?” He looks to Jon, who’s looking conflicted.

“I think… they probably would, but. I don’t know that we can trust them? It’s just… it’s the  _ Web. _ ”

“Didn’t realize you were such an old man, Jon,” Tim muttered, nudging Jon in the side.

“Do we have another option, though?” Sasha asked, in an attempt to stop Tim from derailing the conversation before they could reach a decision.

“I can’t think of one, no,” Jon responded, smiling weakly at Tim’s joke.

“It seems to me, then, that we kind of  _ have _ to talk to the Web,” Sasha said.

Martin shifted where he was sitting nervously. “I can?” He offered. “I’m not really afraid of spiders, it might help.”

Jon tensed visibly, some eyes looking around the room as if the Web would immediately show up to take Martin away. “I don’t suppose it’d be reasonable for no one to talk to anyone from the Web, then?”

“Probably not,” Sasha replied, trying to sound less excited and more sorry. He’s  _ worried, _ Sasha. He’s been through the  _ apocalypse. _ Do  _ not _ let your curiosity make you rude. Besides, if people know you want to go because you’re curious, they won’t be as willing to listen to the perfectly well thought out reasons that you should go. “I was thinking Jon and I could go? If that’s okay with you, Jon.”

“I-  _ why? _ ”

“You’re the best able to defend yourself, out of all of us. I was kind of hoping your spooky apocalypse powers could help if something goes wrong.” And you’re going to need more than the paper statements we have, Sasha barely bit back. If they  _ do _ attack us, that’s basically free food, right? Not a long term solution by any means, but she had a feeling that Jon’s diet was just going to be an extended series of short term solutions followed by other short term solutions anyways.

“And you’re going because of your spooky powers as well?” Tim asked.

“Yeah. I thought the two of us would have the best odds getting answers and staying safe?” She turned the last bit into a question, looking to Jon for confirmation.

He nodded slowly. “I think that… could work best, yes.”

Martin went to say something - probably to argue - but Sasha cut him off. “Also, there were actually a couple other problems I was hoping to discuss. Firstly, Martin, can you be the main one to handle the police?”

“I- what?” Martin asked, reminding Sasha that she hadn’t actually explained her thoughts about Basira Hussain and Daisy Tonner.

“I was thinking, about the police officers Jon mentioned? They have resources we don’t, so it could be helpful to be on at least friendly terms with them. Besides that, unless we change things up a lot, Basira’s probably going to need somewhere to go for information about Rayner. We could just leave her to figure things out, but I want to help her if we can. So, we need them to be aware of us, aware that we might have information about spooky things, and aware that they can trust us. Worst case scenario I figure we just discover Gertrude’s corpse and they’ll show up to investigate that, but there might be some other option that  _ doesn’t _ get us suspected for murder?”

“And you want… me? To do  _ that? _ I’m not even qualified to do the job I’m supposed to be doing, I faked my CV! Ah-” Martin paled.

“No, ah, don’t worry, I already know-”

“It was  _ that _ obvious?” Martin looked miserable.

“ _ No! _ No, I found out on accident, poking around through the employee records. Some of the facts didn’t match up. It was really well done, actually! You’d be good at this, I think.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Martin,” Jon added.

“Yeah! You’re really good with people,” Tim said, reaching around Jon to give Martin a bit of a hug. He blushed.

“...I think, maybe, if we went to the police first and  _ then _ found Gertrude’s body? They’d refuse to investigate just  _ hearing _ ‘Magnus Institute’, let alone the fact that we have nothing other than suspicions about Elias being a danger to us. Then when we find Gertrude’s body, it won’t be as much of a shock, because we’ll have already established that we’re investigating on our own. And, because they’ve already got the idea that Elias is a threat, they might assume  _ he _ was the one to kill Gertrude, instead of one of us. I mean, he  _ did _ do that, but we can’t prove that right now. But, at least they’d all be suspicious of him, and aware that we’re not working with him, so they might trust us more? Well, I mean, I don’t know, I guess. I didn’t actually think about it much? There could be a lot I missed, honestly-”

“And you thought you weren’t well suited for this,” Tim said, laughing slightly.

“I- ”

“Martinnn-” Jon echoed teasingly. “You’re  _ amazing. _ Don’t overlook your own strengths.”

If Sasha had thought that Martin couldn’t get redder, she would have been proven wrong.

“...I guess. Okay, yeah, I can do this. Okay! Is there anything else? I feel like we’re missing something.”

“What, talking to a spooky eldritch fear avatar about murdering our boss and befriending the cops who might try to kill us isn’t enough for you?” Sasha laughed.

“Actually,” Tim said. “I was wondering about the other staff? They’re all in danger just by working at the Institute, but none of them know any of this. We can’t just leave them to deal with whatever comes.”

There was a pause. No one had any quick answer, apparently. Martin asked Jon a question Sasha didn’t catch, but Jon just shook his head and Martin sighed. For her part, Sasha wasn’t sure what to do. They’d need to find out if the other staff could quit, obviously, but then they’d need to decide how much to tell them. Her instinct was to tell everyone everything - keeping people in the dark didn’t sit right with her - but they’d need the staff to listen to them and saying less instead of more might make what they’re saying easier to believe. Then again, if they didn’t say <i>enough,</i> the actual danger wouldn’t be understood.

A couple of suggestions were made, but nothing really seemed right, and eventually they decided that the first step would be to try and figure out what the other staff would actually believe when they got back to the institute.

-

All these plans were well and good - they  _ were! _ These things were important - but there wasn’t  _ anything _ for the circus. The circus’ ritual would fail, sure, but they’d taken Danny! Tim just really didn’t like knowing that they were all still walking around, perfectly fine, even knowing how futile all their goals were.

… He wanted them to  _ hurt. _

He wasn’t sure how to communicate that, though.

“When things are a bit more stable, do you want- we could go find Nikola, if you’d like.” 

Tim jumped, absolutely not expecting Jon’s soft voice a bit behind him. It took him a second to get over the adrenaline and actually process the words Jon had said, and then a bit longer to actually get the meaning, but he got there in the end.

“I’d… I’d appreciate that.”

“Revenge won’t fix things, and sometimes it just ends up making you feel worse, but, well. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you not to take the chance. You’ve got friends, though, and we’ll help you no matter how things go.”

“... Just don’t die in an explosion?” Tim asked, before wondering if that was a bit too morbid for a joke.

Jon made an exaggerated face of horror and said, “ _ Please, don’t, _ ” before giving him a slight smile, though, so Tim figured it was fine.

-

Jon was hungry. There were a fair number of the written statements Sasha and Tim had gotten still left, but, well. It felt rather more like smelling food than actually eating it. He needed a live statement, and for once he actually had friends who might understand that, but he  _ still _ didn’t want to admit it. They knew he wasn’t human, and he didn’t want to lose that. Everything they’d seen of him so far, they’d accepted - the eyes, the knowing, the healing, and even his taking Tim’s statement - but he didn’t think they’d accept how much he  _ enjoyed _ all the horror and suffering. He  _ liked _ taking statements, as much as he felt ashamed of that fact, and he didn’t want them to know. This was the most kindness he’d ever gotten, was it so bad for him to try and keep it? Jon honestly wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like there was anyone he could ask.

“Hey, Jon?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah?”

“You need statements directly from people, yeah? Not just the written ones - those aren’t enough?”

“I- ” it wasn’t like Jon could lie, anymore. “Well- yes.”

“Are you going to need to leave, soon, to get some?”

“...Yeah. Is that- is that okay?”

Sasha looked confused. “Of course. You’re our friend, no one here wants you to starve.”

Jon was still aware of the satisfied look he’d have on his face once he got back, of the reactions his friends - friends! - might have, but his self control was only so good, and he  _ was _ very hungry. Once he’d decided to go, he couldn’t manage the restraint to wait, so he said a quick goodbye to Sasha and left, hoping he didn’t look too excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive got some plans for basira and daisy which may or may not happen but it might be fun! jons a monster after all! way more of a monster than last time around too!
> 
> no worries though this fic is my coping with canon fic everything will end happily  
> but were not at the end yet :)


	17. [i dont know what day of the week it is in my fic anymore] :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jons hunting  
> but he’s not the only one ;)

Jon Knew where he was going, even if the directions he was following didn’t have much to do with street names and blocks and businesses. Malia Hawthorne was being plagued by the Corruption, ants coming out of her vents and up through her drains and out of her sockets. She’d discovered the ones in her coffee pot yet, and the nest in her boots, but not yet the masses in her raincoat where it lay across the back of the chair where she’d dropped it in fright when she’d first seen the masses of ants congregating on her floor, coming home from work a couple days ago.

The sound of his cane on the ground would remind her of the clattering sounds of the larger ants she’d discovered yesterday on the floor of her kitchen, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

To deal with the ants… he could get them to clear out, it’d probably feed him some, too, but she’d have to do some of the work to keep them from coming back. He’d have to figure out what to say to her, how to help her with the constant fear and worry that initially had drawn the Corruption to her so it wouldn’t just show up again after he left. It was admittedly a bit difficult, to focus past the statement he would get and think about how best to help, but he made himself do it anyways. It was really the least he could do for her.

-

Malia had been… a mess. He tried to tell himself not to feel so good about that, not to smile like he knew he was, but couldn’t manage to actually do that. He’d have to settle for feeling happy and unhappy simultaneously. That was still pretty good, right? Happy and content over the statement, and upset on Malia’s behalf. He  _ was _ both those things, and it’d have to do.

The bench he was sitting on was a bit chilly, but he was still a bit too achy to move after having walked all the way to where Malia was - he’d forgotten to check how far away she was. She’d seemed like she was going to be alright, or as alright as she could be, at least, but he’d pointed her to the Magnus Institute to contact him though Sasha if the ants came back, just in case. When Jon had gotten to Malia he’d texted Sasha so she’d know he was alright, but he figured it’d be best to text her again so she’d know he was just taking a break before walking back.

Taking the Underground was an option, but being in a cramped space surrounded by people sounded absolutely horrible, definitely worse than just walking. He yawned and stretched out on the bench, considering taking a nap.

-

Daisy saw the man while she was taking a quick walk to get over the frustration of another pointless chase. She  _ knew _ the person she and Basira was chasing wasn’t actually a Section 31 case - they weren’t going to be a fun chase, and that was the main problem, even if Daisy couldn’t quite admit to herself that she didn’t actually care if she was chasing a human, just that they were scared and good at running.  _ Telling _ Basira that this wasn’t a section case, though, would mean explaining, at least in part, the blood she would hear calling her to the culprits, the howling in her veins signifying the beginning of the chase.

The man was sprawled out on a bench in the park. She wouldn’t have noticed him at all, but she and Basira had been looking through old cases for information on what the witness for their current case had reported - had thought they’d seen. This was a waste of time, but Daisy had to grit her teeth and deal with it because it was still preferable to the alternatives - and Daisy still remembered the pattern she’d  _ wanted _ to chase down.

Never the center of a report, always a bystander - no true victims in any state to go to the police. Other  _ monsters _ were scared of him. He could draw people’s words out of their mouths like he was conducting an orchestra. This man was the prey she  _ wanted, _ not whatever con artist she and Basira had been sent after. She didn’t know that the man on the bench was the monster she was after, but he certainly matched the descriptions.

She didn’t know if he was the right man, that is, until she stepped towards him, and his eyes flicked up to look at her - to Look at her - all his eyes, Looking at her-

He had two eyes, and he was gazing around the park like a normal human person, like he wasn’t even aware she was there, but she knew, now. This  _ was _ the monster. She had a hunt.

-

Jon panicked slightly when he first noticed Daisy. This, he was willing to admit, made everything significantly worse.

He couldn’t run - she was a Hunter, a chase would only help her, in the end. Instead, he forced himself to sit still, and looked over at her as she walked towards him in a more normal manner than he had while panicking.

She grinned, showing her teeth in what was more of a threat than an expression of happiness. He hoped he looked relatively peaceful, but he knew she wouldn’t care. It hurt, after their friendship, to Know how much she wanted to see him terrified and hurting, and when he had no more hope, to kill him. To Know she would take nothing but delight in his death. All he could hope for, right now, was to be boring enough that she’d let him escape, looking for a better chase down the road.

He got up - slowly, carefully, broadcasting his movements as clearly as possible - and held a hand out to her.

“Jon Sims. You are?” This was very nearly the most desperate he’d ever been to keep the compulsion out of his voice. He was extremely thankful he’d just gotten a live statement.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and spoke deliberately. “You’re the eye monster, then? Might want to try running. Don’t think you look like much of a threat, honestly. Don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“What  _ fuss _ \- no, never mind. No disrespect, but I’m not very inclined to run. You seem like you’re in pretty good shape, and I’ve got about the same muscle mass as a spaghetti noodle, even without bringing up the joint pain.”

She growled, faintly, and he tried not to wince. Not in fear, not really, but because he could so vividly picture  _ his _ Daisy and what she’d think about this. It was hard not to feel like he was failing her, with her directly in front of him like this.

Daisy -  _ his _ Daisy - would probably tell him not to blame himself. That he was doing all he could. To do the best he could, but also to understand that ultimately, her circumstances were her own fault and he shouldn’t try to bear that weight. She would want him to protect himself from her, and not just take the pain out of some misguided sense of guilt. Even if she wasn’t here to be disappointed in him if he  _ did _ mess up, he still wanted to do his best for her.

For Tim and Sasha and Martin, too. They would all be upset if he showed up injured and in pain, even if he  _ would _ just heal. If he got hurt, it wouldn’t just hurt him. It would hurt the people he cared about too. The knowledge didn’t necessarily help him think, though.

“You’re really not going to defend yourself? Not even going to  _ try? _ Here I’d thought I’d found something fun. Still, you are a monster, even if you are disappointing. Guess I probably ought to do something.”

Well. That wasn’t great. Think faster, Jon. “You’re going to kill me in a public park, then? Me just standing here peacefully, in full view of everyone?”

She growled again, louder. “Can’t be in a crowd 24/7. Plenty easy to grab someone off the street without getting caught. Then again, you ought to know that, wouldn’t you.”

“Can’t say I do, no.” He Knew she figured he had other victims that just didn’t make it to the police. It was… honestly upsetting, to have Daisy think that of him, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that.

She snorted. “Guess I might as well hang out with you for a bit, seeing as you’re all peaceful and such. Could be fun.”

Could be fun to follow him to wherever he went once he left the park, she meant. Could be fun to follow through on her threat and snatch him off the street the second he was somewhere less protected. If it came down to that… he  _ would _ defend himself, in the end. He wouldn’t kill her, either, but he wouldn’t have any chance of convincing her he wasn’t a monster, then.

Even if he did stay away from anywhere she could grab him, though, he’d just end up leading her to Tim’s flat, and that would be  _ worse. _ She’d definitely go after Sasha as well as him, and Tim and Martin could so easily end up caught in the crossfire.

He shuffled his cane between his hands, thinking, when something caught the corner of his eye. A yellow door, on the side of the building. It was pretending very hard that it was, in fact, a normal door that was expected to be located where it was, that would lead to the area that was, reasonably, behind it. It would have been very convincing to anyone else, but Jon knew a lie when he Saw one. He wasn’t the target, he Knew suddenly, but a man, Mike Thompson. He was going to walk by, soon, to run into the door that he couldn’t prove existed to anyone. Maybe he’d finally give in and investigate. Maybe he’d try to forget it, to convince himself that his world was still normal. Jon wanted to find out.

More importantly, though, Jon was sitting on a bench next to a Hunter who wanted to kill him, and would do so at the earliest opportunity. Maybe he could seek Thompson out later for a statement, give the man some advice. Just having someone believe him would probably be a big help. Now, though, Jon had an escape Daisy couldn’t follow him along. The Spiral couldn’t trap him, after all. It’d probably be faster than walking home, actually.

He got up. Daisy got up as well, looking at him with a predatory smile. She thought she was about to get the chase she was looking for. Jon still wasn’t certain she was wrong, but he hoped his vague concept of a plan would be good enough.

She looked a bit confused when he headed over towards the bakery, but stuck with him, uncomfortably close to remind him that she was there. Even if they weren’t such different heights, she would have been intimidating, but as it was, she towered over him. The sundress, sandals, and flowing blonde hair did nothing to disguise the fact that she could and would snap his bones like a handful of twigs.

When he walked through the door, he felt more than saw her surprise and anger as she realized what door he’d walked through, right before he was cut off from reality and she had no hope of chasing him.

-

He was just gone. Of  _ course _ monsters would collaborate. Daisy knew the door monster, had heard of it before, but she hadn’t caught on in time and now her prey had escaped. Good, a part of her murmured. This will make for a much more interesting chase. In the meantime, she did have that conman she and Basira were assigned to track down. Maybe she could find him first, scare him a bit before Basira got there. She couldn’t have very much fun with him - they’d need to question him and Basira was going to be there and all - but she could vent a little after losing track of her more important prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blacked out and wrote this entire chapter in one sitting from 4 am to 6 am after posting the last chapter but i didn't post it until after i'd slept because i wanted a chance to edit it.  
> turns out i hate editing so i'm actually not doing that.  
> here's hoping this was coherent!


	18. [i dont even know what the irl date is anymore] jon is just vibing daisy chill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it/its pronouns for michael in case anyone needs a heads up about that

The entity that would, sometimes, answer to Michael was confused. It always was confused, actually, but it was even more confused than normal at the moment. At first, it had been confused when someone had noticed its door besides the one it was slowly driving insane. Then, it was confused when they opened it and walked in with basically no fear - they were afraid, to be fair, but not of the door or anything that might be behind it. As far as Michael could tell, they actually felt  _ safer _ now.

And then they opened their eyes (and opened their eyes, and opened their eyes, and opened their eyes- ) and it became apparent why they weren’t scared.

“Hello,” they said. “I’m Jon. I use he/him pronouns, for the record.”

His words - his  _ existence _ \- were True in the absolute, irrefutable manner of anything of the Beholding, but somehow  _ more so _ than anything that had ever been in Michael’s corridors. Michael was left reeling, its existence concrete and determined in a way that it had never been (in a way more similar to how Michael Shelley had been, before Becoming).

It had a means by which to hear, and a physical presence existing close enough to the concrete location where Jon was that hearing his words was possible. It had a consciousness to process and understand what he’d said, and a memory to retain all of it. It had the clarity of absolute confidence in what the truth was, at least as far as the truth about Jon was concerned. It could feel fear. It could feel pain. It felt both of those things.

The Distortion was a  _ distortion _ \- it was not meant to be Known and catalogued, sorted and orderly. Its entire being was built out of impossibilities - both existing and not, both capable of thought and not, both here and there - and having some of those impossibilities ruled out, even temporarily - it exists, it’s capable of thought, it’s here - was counter to its very being.

Jon’s cane, where he was tapping it idly against the floor, had none of the echo that most things did in the corridors. It simply sounded like a cane, getting tapped against the floor, in a hallway. The way it should. Which meant that the floor and walls and ceiling had to be at least relatively normal, to produce that sound. Which meant that the structure of the hallway had to be relatively normal, because how could it be anything else when built out of normal materials? Which meant-

Michael felt him purposefully blink his eyes (and eyes and eyes and- ) shut through its whole being.

“Sorry about that. Ah, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m running rather late? I don’t want my friends to worry. Could you- ah, hm. I’d appreciate a door? Preferably in London. I don’t… well, I think I  _ could _ find a door on my own, but, well. That seems rather rude, to me.”

He  _ thought _ he could find a door, he said, as if it wasn’t perfectly likely that he could just walk a path that would make perfect sense, open a door that always had existed and probably always would, and end up exactly where he was going. As if he didn’t Know perfectly well what degree of that potential he was capable of.

Even with Jon’s focus lessened, Michael still couldn’t help but be aware of the truth of his existence. As much as its hallways and corridors spiralled endlessly, nonsensically, here they were unwound to follow straight lines. This… person - that was the most accurate term Michael could come up with, even if it still didn’t seem to fit quite right - was more akin to what Michael Shelley had Become than what Gertrude had tried to avoid Becoming, but that still wasn’t right.

Michael wrenched itself out of its attempt to make sense of everything. This did not feel like a being of the Beholding, trapped in It Is Not What It Is, but rather like Michael was trapped in a space owned by the Beholding. The knowledge hurt, as it pieced things together, but it still felt compelled to know.

-

Jon blinked harder, forcing his attention away from Michael for a second time. As much as he wanted to hammer out the twists of the Distortion to See it all laid out before him, he wasn’t actually here to torment Michael, and he didn’t want to make enemies who might go after his friends. Even if he wasn’t  _ as _ bad for the Distortion as he had been after… everything, it was clear that he still had far more of an impact than he had before.

He wasn’t actually sure Michael was in any state to get him a door out. Finding his own way out, though, might just make things worse. Michael was very much a monster, but Jon couldn’t really be more than a bit upset at it, considering everything that had happened. Instead, he just sat on the floor, closed his eyes as best he could, and waited.

Michael, in its defense, didn’t have much experience with eating things that were bad for it. Human people are fairly good at treating food poisoning and such, but that’s not really a problem eldritch fear monsters tend to consider. The only other time comparable was with Michael Shelley, and that was, generally, a mess. Also, even if that  _ had _ been a desirable outcome, there was no chance that something similar would work with Jon. So, spending a fair chunk of time reeling (as much as time could be said to exist in its hallways) was honestly a fairly best case scenario.

After a while, though, he felt Michael manage something akin to regaining its balance, and a door struggled into existence in front of him. Out of curiosity, he tried to Know where it would lead, and realized almost immediately - but not immediately enough, unfortunately for Michael - that he had just pinned one of Michael’s doors to reality in someone’s backyard. That door existed, now, and would always exist, because it was a real and tangible presence in the world. Jon hoped the people who lived there didn’t have small children with a tendency to explore interesting things like doors that mysteriously appear in a bush in the garden (they didn’t, thankfully).

Rather than go back into Michael’s corridors in hopes of a door  _ less _ than thirty minutes away from Tim’s flat and cause more problems in the process, Jon opted to climb out of the bush, struggle over the fence, and just make the walk. A grand total of one person saw him, he Knew, but they were a five year old left at home while their parent went shopping, so he figured it probably wasn’t anything to worry about.

-

“What was that about?” Basira asked, tilting her head in the general direction the car taking their conman away had left in. 

Daisy all but growled, her eyes taking the slightly golden tinge Basira knew to associate with the monsters she’d… disappear. It was something to do with one of those cases, then. Made sense. She’d been overly harsh with the suspect - Basira hadn’t been there, but it would have been hard to miss how terrified the man had been of Daisy. If Daisy was on edge because of some monster, that’d explain better how she’d treated the man. Not great either way, sure, but there were more important things to focus on. Like the monster, for instance.

“I found the eye monster  _ and _ the one with the doors. Found the eye monster first, but-” she snarled. “Got one of those doors to take it away. I didn’t catch on until it was gone. Now I know what it looks like, though. Sad looking twig of a man.”

“Should we tell the precinct we’ve got a lead on a sectioned case, then? Or do you think we’ll even be able to find anything? That one with the doors doesn’t seem to leave any traces, according to the records.”

Daisy smiled at her, the sharp and threatening smile that Basira loved because it counted her as an ally and a threat, instead of the quiet bookworm most people saw her as. “We’ll find them both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: h-  
> Michael, t-posing on the ceiling: the pOWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU


	19. what the fuck is narrative flow?? who cares all i know is write fluff eat crackers and post chapter at 3 40 am

Tim was worried. Jon had been gone for several hours now, and he had texted Sasha twice - once when he found someone with a statement, and then about half an hour later to say he was taking a break in a park before coming back, but  _ still. _ He knew what sort of dangers were out there, and  _ sure _ Jon was a spooky man with spooky powers, but he was also thin like a depressed twig! Tim could probably pick him up with one hand! Who let Jon go outside  _ alone? _

Sasha did that, actually, and Tim trusted her. She thought it would be okay for Jon to be unattended for a bit, so it would be  _ fine. _ Jon wasn’t a child, after all. Besides, he’d been fine before meeting them, and he’d been on his own for that entire time.  _ Physically _ fine, Tim corrected himself, shuddering a bit to think of how miserable it must have been to go straight from the apocalypse to dealing with all his problems alone while trying to fix everything.

He couldn’t help but think of Danny, though, who’d gone off towards something spooky on  _ his _ own as well, and, well… 

Nope! Not thinking about that! Jon had saved Martin from Prentiss, he could take care of himself. Tim almost managed to not be worried for a second, before he remembered Jon’s injuries after chasing Prentiss off. Sure, they’d  _ healed, _ but he didn’t want Jon to go through that in the first place.

Oh, hang on, wait a second. Sasha might be able to See where Jon was!

“Hey, Sash-”

“Jon’s about ten minutes away,” she called back. “Martin asked the same thing a minute ago. He looks fine, just has a couple leaves in his hair. Looks better, too.”

Tim paused to consider if there was any chance the leaves were secretly eldritch threats to Jon’s health and safety, and responded, “Thanks!”

This seemed like the sort of information that should let Tim stop worrying. As things turned out, though, it was not. It didn’t seem enough for Martin, either, who was sitting on the couch, fiddling with the handle of one of Tim’s mugs. Tim opted to go sit next to him so they could clockwatch together.

-

Sasha Knew the exact second when Jon would walk through the door, but opted not to give Tim and Martin any warning past the ten minutes’ notice she’d given about ten minutes ago. If Jon walked in through the door looking vaguely stressed but significantly healthier to the sight of Martin and Tim trying not to look like the dog she’d had a couple years ago would whenever she’d come home, that was a problem for people who weren’t her.

Then again, the only reason  _ she _ wasn’t acting so stressed was because she could See Jon and they couldn’t. She did have an unfair advantage there, she was willing to admit.

“How’re you doing?” she asked.

“Ah, fine, I suppose. Well, I mean, there was a bit of a thing on the way home, but it wasn’t any danger, really, and- ” Jon was abruptly cut off by the combined forces of Martin’s look of distress, Tim’s glare of disapproval, and Sasha Looking him over for injuries he might be ignoring as ‘fine’.

“Jon, I’m pretty sure you’re not legally allowed to say the word ‘fine’, anymore,” Tim said.

“Are-  _ are _ you okay?” Martin asked, moving as if to pat Jon down or something.

“He isn’t injured physically, at least.”   
  
“Sash,” Tim started, turning to her. “You  _ said _ he was okay!”   
  
“I wasn’t  _ stalking _ him the whole time or anything! I just checked on him a couple of times!”

“Guys- ”

“ _ Physically _ okay doesn’t mean that much though!” Martin added.

“I  _ know _ that, I just- ”

“Guys, it’s- ”

“Jon, you tried to say your  _ worm holes _ were ‘fine’!” Tim said, shuffling his feet out of what Sasha knew was a combination of a desire to do something and a lack of knowledge as to what.

Jon blinked, as if he was still processing that they were all genuinely that concerned about him. Knowing him, that’s actually what was going on. Then he said, tentatively, “Physically I’m fine, and mentally I’m not too bad off, at least not relatively, not because of anything that happened today, I just ran into Daisy. She didn’t  _ do _ much, but I think she’s Hunting me. I had to take a sort of long way back - I got Michael to help, somehow? - so she wouldn’t associate me with you guys, so things should be fine as long as you don’t admit to knowing me. It just… hurt, to see her like that.”

Martin was the first to move following that - taking hold of Jon’s hand, tugging him over to the couch, and sitting him down so that he was basically draped over Martin - which Sasha was glad for because she honestly wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Tim exchanged a few words with Jon and Martin, and then walked over to her and gestured for her to follow him to give the two some time and to get a relatively private conversation.

A  _ relatively _ private conversation, because they could both tell that Jon was Watching them, even if most of his attention was on Martin. Probably he was still on edge after Daisy - even if he could only barely admit to how much that had affected him, it was still pretty easy to tell.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tim began slowly. “About living arrangements.”

Sasha had been wondering when this would come up - they  _ were _ all living in Tim’s flat right now, and she did still technically have her own. At the very least, if they split the group in half, there would probably be less tripping over each other. If she was being honest with herself, though, Sasha would admit that she wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Still, this was  _ Tim’s _ flat they were all in, so she nodded for him to continue.

“We don’t… really fit in my flat very well. This is not a space designed for four people. And… I suppose we could split up, and maybe things would be a bit less awkward, but, well. I don’t really  _ want _ to? I mean, I know this was meant to be temporary, and if- ”

Sasha snorted. “And here I was worrying  _ you _ were going to be the one saying that everyone living together was too cramped and asking us to split up. If we’re all still going to live together, though, are you thinking we should go look for a bigger flat or something? Our pay isn’t great but we can probably manage a flat meant for two people at least.”

“That’s probably the smarter option, but I just remembered Jon said something about Knowing Elias’ bank information and I was thinking, if price wasn’t the limiting factor, it might be nice to actually have… a house? Because, we could pay the whole price, and then it would just be… permanently ours. Even if our financial situation changes. No rent to worry about.”

Sasha’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a text from Jon, and laughed. It had what was presumably both Elias Douchard and Peter Lukas’ bank information, and a string of money emojis. While she was showing Tim - both of them biting back laughter - she got another text: “Martin wants a pretty garden. Also, storage space would be appreciated. I have a bit of a tendency to hoard, especially with books.”

“I suppose the only question left, then, my dear Sasha,” Tim said, his joking tone doing nothing to describe his genuine giddiness. “Is where we’re going to find someone willing to put two gentlemen, a lovely, incredible lady, and whatever the hell Jon’s got going on all on the deed to a house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “jons said nothing about his gender why does tim (and sasha and martin even though they werent specifically mentioned as knowing) know hes he/him nonbinary”  
> because its my fic and im nonbinary and i decided that having to have a whole conversation about your gender just so other people get it right is bullshit


	20. lets go lesbians (and bi and pan gals) (and also jon i guess)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things happen in this chapter. which things? yes.

“So. Considering its connection to the one with the doors, travel probably isn’t much of an issue, and it can just show up wherever it wants.” Basira said, shuffling through all the mentions of the eye monster she’d found while Daisy cleaned her gun out.

“Any patterns stand out to you, there, or are we going to just be camping out anywhere we can think of until we get more information?”

  
  
“Unfortunately, there isn’t really much of a pattern here. It does tend to show up in weird places, though – the sort of place you’d get a section just for walking into, mostly. At least we’ll have some direction for where to camp out. I’ve actually been thinking, though. Do you think anyone might have told the Magnus Institute about it? I don’t know if there’s any way to actually _find_ useful information there, but it might give us some more direction.”

“You want to try that, and I’ll go hang out somewhere spooky, see if I get lucky?”

“Sure. See you tonight, then. We can discuss anything we might have found.”

-

Sasha sighed. Walking to Hill Top Road, in an attempt to speak to someone who brought back a lot of trauma for Jon probably wasn’t the best time for this conversation, but she didn’t really want to have it in front of Tim and Martin, and Jon was already looking sideways at her as if he was already aware of what she wanted to talk about and was waiting to see if she’d start the conversation. Given how oddly specific that impression of Jon was, and how confident she felt in it, she figured it was probably accurate.

“So. Michael. The door guy?”

“Yes. He took Helen Richardson here, as well?” Jon asked, before an expression Sasha couldn’t name flickered across his face as he got the answer to his question in significantly more detail than he had wanted. Sasha nodded as well, not bothering to vocalize the clearly redundant answer.

“I’m sorry, I- ”

She cut him off with a shake of her head. “You’ve _been_ helping people, Jon. It would be ridiculous for me to be upset with you over one person you didn’t save, in light of that.”  
  


“But I _knew_ \- ”

“We both Know a _lot,_ Jon. You can’t possibly save everyone you know is in danger.”  
  


Jon looked over at her with an expression of understanding. “You aren’t to blame either, Sasha. You- ”

“But I should have _noticed_ \- ”

“But I _knew_ \- ” Jon repeated back, his tone pointed. “If anyone’s responsible, it _is_ me. I was just in Michael’s hallways. If I’d remembered, I probably could have found her and gotten her out. I should have…”

Sasha squeezed his hand, offering him a smile. “Well, whoever’s to blame, all of that is already done. Bar any more surprise time travel, of course. Is it too late for Helen, though? I know we can’t save _everyone,_ but…”

“I’ll certainly try, yes. Onwards to Hill Top Road, then?”

-

Basira signed into the Archives, ignoring the shiver running down her spine. One part of her wanted to think that the feeling of being watched was unfounded, with how empty the Archives were with their staff still on leave after the Prentiss incident, but the other part of her remembered that the Magnus Institute was an instant sectioning, and the way the creepy head of the Institute had stared at her while she’d asked permission to access past statements, and knew that there was every chance that the feeling had a very real source.

There were still dead worms rotting on the floor, and upturned boxes with the papers spilling out across and among the dead worms. It was immediately clear that the cleaning staff hadn’t even made an attempt to clear things out. Basira felt bad for the Head Archivist and her assistants, who would likely be the ones expected to clear all this out, following their break. She was certainly glad that she wasn’t wearing anything she cared about. Maybe she’d try to get some sort of note to the Head Archivist, make sure she knew what she would be coming back to. If she were the one having to deal with a situation like this, she’d certainly appreciate the heads up.

Well, she could see about that later. She had a feeling that if there even _was_ anything useful here, it would take a lot of digging to find it.

-

Hill Top Road seemed to Daisy to be as good a place to start as any, with all the variety of spooky reports they got from and around the place. With prey who could escape so easily, lounging in her car outside where she might be seen wasn’t a good choice. As much as she wanted a chase, she’d have to figure out how to cut off its escape first. Maybe it’d make more sense to go after the door monster? Then again, they had even less idea for places the door monster might show up.

Either way, she needed some place to sit down and wait, in case anything happened. It wasn’t very likely that she’d find anything, but that was the way stakeouts were, especially when you were guessing about where to go in the first place. If she wanted to find anything, she’d need patience. She put an earbud in one ear, leaving the volume low to make sure she could hear anything happening around her, and put on the Archers.

Not even an hour later, she realized that today was probably going to be a good day. Daisy’s eyesight sharpened and her pulse spiked as her ears picked up the faint sound of footsteps, and the sound of a cane clicking against the ground. She quietly got to her feet, pausing her episode and tucking her earbuds into her pocket. A minute later, she saw it, walking towards Hill Top Road next to what looked like a woman Daisy didn’t recognize. Two monsters working together, or one monster and its prey? Daisy narrowed her eyes, deciding to wait for a bit and see what would come of this.

-

“Daisy’s here,” Jon said, careful to keep his voice low enough that Daisy wouldn’t be able to hear him. “She’s waiting to see what we should do. If you leave, she’ll probably follow me and you’ll be safe.”  
  


“Jon.” Sasha responded, her similarly low voice doing nothing to hide her disappointed tone of voice.

“I’d be- ” He tried to protest, choking on the lie. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Worst case scenario, actually, how fine would you be?”

Jon hesitated.

“Jon, there’s no way we can have any conversation with Annabelle Cane in front of Daisy if we find her, but we’re not going to split up so you can fail to defend yourself against Daisy and take out your guilt against yourself that way.”

“And _you’d_ go find _Annabelle Cane_ on your _own?_ ”

“If we just leave, Daisy will keep staking out the place, right?”

Jon looked away, trying to find a way to disagree and unable to find one. “We could try to find Annabelle somewhere else?”

“What are our chances at _that?_ ”

“They- they aren’t very good, no,” he said, somehow looking even unhappier.

“So,” Sasha continued. “Can I actually trust you to defend yourself?”

“I- ” He paused to think. “Yes. You can. I will be safe. Will _you?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Sasha said immediately.

“Oh, sorry- ”

“No worries. I just want to add that I will do my very best. It would probably be reassuring if you could keep an eye on me, though, just in case. Can you tell if I’m being controlled?”

“I can, but- ”

“Privacy is fake, check when we meet up again.” She gave him a little salute. “Best of luck, Jon.”

He blinked, looking slightly overwhelmed. “To- to you as well, Sasha.”

-

Daisy grinned to herself. With the way the two had paused for what looked like a fairly amiable conversation, she’d probably found herself another monster. She would admit she felt a bit disappointed when they split up, forcing her to choose, but going after them when they were alone was probably the smarter play anyways. The eye monster was the known quantity, and the prey Daisy was currently hunting, so she followed it away from Hill Top Road as the other one walked up to the front door.

-

Jon kept an eye on Sasha and another on Daisy and another on the ground in front of him – he had plenty, after all – as he turned on his heel and walked away from Hill Top Road in a random direction. He wasn’t going to head straight back to Tim’s flat, after all. Not with Daisy following him.

He Watched as Sasha opened the unlocked door and stepped into Hill Top Road. As glib as she had been, saying ‘privacy is fake’, she was still a bit unnerved and concerned. Greater than any feelings against, though, was her need to _know_ if she was being controlled. Considering that, Jon accidentally finding something about her she’d rather he didn’t seemed a small price to pay. Besides, she trusted him, and she had to admit, knowing that at the very least, people would know what had happened to her should something go wrong was reassuring.

Hill Top Road was exactly as creepy as she’d expected, which didn’t mean she was braced for how creepy it was. It just meant she wasn’t shocked that she was absolutely terrified. Sasha wasn’t normally one to be afraid of spiders, and there weren’t even any spiders visible at the moment, but the swaying, drifting cobwebs covering nearly every surface set her on edge. She knew, intellectually, that cobwebs were _abandoned_ webs and not ones still in use, but she also knew that the type of prey that tended to get caught here was not actually caught by physical spiderwebs.

-

While Sasha ventured into Hill Top Road, Daisy stalked Jon, trying to decide on the best course of action. It could, hypothetically, escape into the weird doors at any time. If that was the case, attacking it with no confidence that she could cut off any means of escape would be a poor idea. Not attacking it would mean that she could follow it to what might be a home base of sorts, which would allow her to plan out a better attack for later. Then again, it had walked all the way to the building where the door monster had been, in the park. There was no reason to believe that they didn’t have to coordinate ahead of time, and it could be that it had noticed her and was heading to somewhere it could escape from. In _that_ case, it would be best to stop it immediately. The doors of the door monster had always been reported as bright yellow, though. If she saw it heading towards a yellow door, she would stop it. Otherwise, she would wait, and see where it would lead her.

-

There were stairs in front of Jon. He took them as slowly as he could so he wouldn’t fall on his face in his distraction.

-

Sasha jumped, hearing the sound of fabric shifting behind her.

“Hello?” She asked, turning around to see a woman wearing what was honestly a very nice looking dress. “Are you Annabelle Cane?”

The woman smiled, tilting her head so that Sasha could see the cobwebs stitching the side of it together.

“So that’s a yes, then?” Sasha asked flatly.

Annabelle laughed. “Yes, it is. And you’re Elias’ Archivist, correct?”

“It’s Sasha,” she responded.

“Alright, Sasha. What are you here for?”

-

Jon turned to avoid a crowded street – he didn’t feel like trying to weave between people.

Daisy took this as evidence to support his not being aware of her presence, he noted, vaguely amused. The monster, she thought, would head somewhere crowded if it was trying to escape. In a crowd, it would be harder for her to take action. However, if it was heading to whatever home it might have, it would make sense for it to head somewhere less populated – more secrecy for _it_ to feed in.

Jon was more concerned with Sasha than Daisy, honestly. He could figure out how to get away once Sasha was safe. Until then, he could just keep walking and Daisy probably wouldn’t do anything. It would be easier to Watch Sasha that way.

-

“And you’re here because you heard about Agnes and Gertrude? That was a tidy bit of work, but it kept Gertrude around for quite a long time. It helped that we had one of her assistants to guide her, of course.”

“You know at least one way of binding people together. If Elias dies, will- I’m here to ask if you know if his death would kill the rest of us as well.”

“Hmm… You’ve certainly got better manners than Gertrude did. I’d be happy to trade information. Go ahead and ask.”

“I’d like you to tell me what information you want from my end before I ask,” Sasha said, biting back the curiosity that had, in fact, almost led her to ask before checking to see what she’d be trading for.

Annabelle smiled, her expression somehow a mix of being irritated and impressed. “Some information about a friend of yours would be welcome, I should think.”

“Which friend?”

“The one with all the eyes. Jonathan, I believe.” Annabelle’s smile dropped as she looked up at Sasha from where she was sitting. “That was rude, Archivist.”

Sasha took a breath. “My apologies. I’m not much accustomed to this yet.”

“Apology accepted,” Annabelle said. “Don’t do it again.”

Sasha nodded. “Of course.”

She desperately wanted to agree to the deal, to give Annabelle whatever information she wanted to get answers – it didn’t matter what Annabelle wanted, the corner of her mind that she used to Watch and See argued, it would be worth it to know _more._ Jon wouldn’t blame her, she knew, even if it _did_ turn out to be a bad decision (and it wouldn’t, that same corner of her mind added). Even while she tried to justify it to herself, though, she knew that she had already decided to hold out. She wasn’t willing to make a deal without being sure of what she was agreeing to.

“I explained what information I want and why I want it, Annabelle. I’d appreciate it if you’d do me the same courtesy.”

“That is understandable. I apologize for any rudeness on my part. Your friend is quite powerful, but as far as I can tell he didn’t actually take very long to get there. I would appreciate what information you could give me, if that would be acceptable.”

Sasha hesitated, before nodding. “If it’s acceptable to you that I may not have much useful information.”

“That would be perfectly alright. Go ahead and ask, then.”

“What do you know of the connections between Jonah Magnus, currently known as Elias Bouchard, and the staff of the Institute, and the connections between the Head of the Institute and the rest of the Institute?”

“That is an interesting distinction to make, Sasha, and I am honestly quite curious to know if you Knew that was an important distinction ahead of time. Looking at your face, I’d rather expect not. Normally, Head of the Institute _is_ Jonah’s position – well, as much as it exists as a position to be had. The entities do not tend towards human positions and structures. Jonah created the position for himself, collecting enough of the Beholding into one place and then gaining the power to take control of it, essentially partially cutting a chunk of the Beholding off under his control. Everyone at the Institute is bound to that part of the Beholding, and so, with how much havoc his death would cause on the part of the Beholding, everyone would indeed die with him. Blood rushing back to a limb, if you will, except that very small people have begun living in the veins and arteries. They will all drown. If his death does not lead to that, somehow, then you will all be fine. That is all I know.”

Sasha shook her head slightly, trying to clear her mind of the satisfaction at learning a secret someone very much did not want her to know.

“And your Jonathan?” Annabelle asked.

“Hmm… You mentioned the timeline he became what he is, and he doesn’t much like talking about himself or what’s happened to him, but I can tell you that the timeline is a bit longer than it seems. If you’re looking to replicate what happened to him, I’m honestly not sure it can be done. He has been through a lot, and even if I knew his history in more detail I suspect I would not be able to say what specifically led him to where he is now.”

“That is understandable. I appreciate what you could offer, though. If you would like to remain for a short while, I do believe I have tea somewhere in here?”

“Thank you, but no, I’m afraid I have to leave to meet up with Jon. Goodbye!”

“Farewell, Sasha.” Annabelle replied, showing no sign of how she might have taken what Sasha told her.

Sasha left Hill Top Road to head back to Tim’s flat. When she had been telling Annabelle about Jon, she could feel threads sticking on her, compelling her towards honesty, but she had stopped feeling them once she’d stopped talking. She hoped that meant they were gone, but she would be glad to hear Jon’s opinion. The Web may have been able to pull her towards the truth, but thankfully, she noted, it had far fewer problems with evasive answers and lying by omission than the Eye did. If she’d actually had to detail everything she knew about Jon, there was no way that would’ve ended well.

-

Jon Looked more carefully at Sasha as she left Hill Top Road, and didn’t see any webs, but he could check again when they met up and he wasn’t being stalked through the streets by Daisy. There was no chance that he could lose her in a crowd or some such, she was correct in the assumption that he wasn’t going to one of Michael’s doors – in fact, none of Michael’s doors were anywhere remotely nearby, and outrunning her was so laughable he didn’t even consider it, so he couldn’t just escape her again.

He was caught between excitement and disgust with himself at the fact that he probably had no option _other_ than hurting Daisy. There was an alley up ahead, that dead ended into a wall. If he acted a bit lost and wandered into it, she’d see that he has no escape and approach him. It wouldn’t even be very hard for him, at that point. He wanted to have another option. He wanted to accept that this was his only option. Sasha was almost home, and he didn’t want to worry her. Was that really his reasoning? He couldn’t tell. It was too late to change his mind, though. He’d already turned into the alley. She’d already stepped out behind him.

“Hey there,” she said, a growl lurking in the edges of her voice.

Jon took a deep breath and turned to face Daisy.

“See yourself,” he said.

-

“See yourself,” it said, and Daisy tried to cover her ears. Even without her excellent hearing, even if she were further away, even if she had a more effective method of blocking her hearing, Daisy would later suspect that she would have been able to hear it just as well, but in the moment she couldn’t think enough to do more than curse the hearing she’d been so proud of for subjecting her to this.

“Look upon all you have done with your eyes clear of excuses.”

Her crimes, stripped of any rationalizations she might have invented, shown plain and true and so, so damning. Not judged – there was no judgment in its voice or face – but left to judge for herself.

“ _Know_ the fear of those you hunt, and ask yourself if you even care anymore what crimes they may have committed, if you’re even trying to protect anyone.”

In each of its eyes, she could see one of her prey – her _victims_ – staring back. She felt none of the satisfaction that normally came with expressions like that, though. As much as she still felt like she was staring into the eyes of a hundred people, each terrified of her, each seconds from running, each knowing that they won’t be able to escape, she had never felt more hunted in her life.

“Face the truth, Alice Daisy Tonner, and know all that you have convinced yourself to overlook.”

She was left gasping on the floor, still unable to breathe as the pressure of its gaze lifted and she was left half-kneeling, half-laying on the floor in front of what now seemed to be just a man, if you overlooked the eyes. In his eyes, she could see equal amounts of horror and satisfaction warring with each other.

The man took several steps back, covering his mouth so quickly she could hear him essentially slap himself in the face. The extra eyes closed with a wince, leaving two on his face where she’d expect there to be eyes. Those eyes were wide, but she got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t horrified by any of the revelations _she_ was horrified by, but rather by his own actions. A couple of seconds passed as he stood there, his eyes darting as he apparently tried to decide between staring at her in horror and apology, and resolutely looking anywhere else. Before she could do anything, though, he turned and ran, his hand still over his mouth.


	21. in which things continue to happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: the characters are in character and by in character i dont mean in character with their canon characters i mean in character with my mental health problems

Annabelle Cane pondered what she had heard from the Archivist. She hadn’t gotten any real confirmation either way as far as her theory about Jonathan Sims went, but she could draw some tentative conclusions following what Sasha had told her. Sasha had mentioned that it had taken him longer to become the way he is than it would seem – implying either that he was becoming well before his becoming was visible or that his becoming included interference from an entity such as the Twisting Deceit – or, perhaps, both.

Additionally, Sasha had assumed that Annabelle was looking to create something like Jonathan, and in doing so, told Annabelle that Jonathan was something made. Even without outright confirmation, it seemed to her that Jonathan was an attempt at a ritual along the lines of the theory that Jonah Magnus was following – a ritual including all of the entities, instead of just one. However, Sasha had made it sound as though his becoming were already _done,_ and, if that was the case, his ritual was a failure. This was, if nothing else, an excellent opportunity to troubleshoot.

On one hand, there was the potential that the ritual Jonathan was made into wasn’t actually complete. Annabelle herself had no way of knowing what specifically was left, if that was the case. Whoever was setting up the ritual would know, but considering how Jonathan had just been wandering around on his own for the whole time she’d been aware of him with no significant changes that would seem consistent with someone developing a ritual, she figured it was safe to assume that if someone had been preparing him for a ritual, they were no longer a part of the picture.

On another hand, there was a chance that Jonathan’s alignment with the Beholding had been what led the ritual to fail. Even if he _was_ connected to all of the entities, and his ritual was mean to pull all of the entities through, there was a chance that weighting the ritual so heavily towards the Beholding had unbalanced it enough to fail. This would be the most convenient option, as this would force Jonah into enacting his ritual in the manner Annabelle intended for him to – his obsession with making a world ruled over by the Beholding would be inconvenient for her, and if he was forced to maintain a more even balance, her life would be easier.

On a third hand, she thought, her extra limbs folding out of her back through the slits in the back of her dress, there was always the possibility that Jonathan’s ritual had failed because this theory for creating a successful ritual was as well grounded as any other – that is to say, that this type of ritual would fail like any ritual focused on one entity, and either the idea of rituals was, in itself, flawed, or there was yet another unknown factor that would need to be accounted for in order for a ritual to succeed. This would be the most unfortunate possibility, as she would be forced to essentially throw away all of the plans she had been creating up until now in order to change directions completely, but even in this instance, she was certain that she’d be able to manage.

-

Basira _had_ managed to find something in the Archives, fortunately – a statement they had taken regarding something matching the description she had of the eye monster, and a handful of notes written in cramped, spiky letters. It wasn’t even _in_ the Archives technically – it had been sitting in a pile of statements with no apparent connections in a small room off the Archives filled with some pillows and stuffed animals. Even though there were far fewer worms there than in the Archives, the room still looked more like a crime scene to her, probably because it looked more lived-in. Whatever was going on in the Archives wasn’t her problem, though, and she brushed the worm goo off the statement she wanted and left. In the end, she hadn’t really had the time to give the Head Archivist any warning about the worms, which she felt mildly bad about, but she was busy.

Daisy had been in a terrible state since she’d come back from her stakeout. She’d admitted to having ran into the eye monster, but refused to tell Basira anything else. Basira couldn’t figure out what had happened, besides that it had reduced Daisy to a shade of her former self. The only thing Basira could think to do was to track down the eye monster _herself,_ make it tell her what it had done to Daisy. Even if killing it wouldn’t fix the situation, maybe she could get a better idea of how to help her partner, and if she couldn’t manage that, at least then the world would be down another monster.

She announced her arrival at the flat they shared by knocking gently on the door before unlocking it – Daisy was far easier to startle, these days. It hurt her heart a bit, to have to tread so carefully around her partner, but she reassured herself that it would be temporary. She would fix this, and they would go back to how they had been. 

Daisy was sitting on the couch, listlessly flipping through the pages of a magazine without seeming to actually read it, and Basira did her best not to wince as she walked past and into her bedroom. Spread out across the bedside table and spilling out over the floor were all the pieces of information she’d managed to collect about the monster she was hunting down. The reports from the police station, a couple pages printed out from various online boards where people had reported strange encounters in line with what she knew of the thing, and what little she’d managed to get from the Archives. She might be able to ask around starting tomorrow – the staff would be back, and presumably they would at least know what had already been organized, and point her towards anything they’d already found, but she wasn’t sure they’d appreciate her bothering them while trying to clean up the mess they would be returning to.

Gertrude’s notes confirmed a couple of things for Basira – namely, that the thing was feeding off of other people’s trauma, and that it was capable of causing harm. Gertrude had speculated that it could have been trying to mitigate the harm that it was causing, but, with all the monsters Basira had to deal with, she found that unlikely. The new information, though, was what stood out to her. While Gertrude comparing the monster to herself was interesting, certainly, Gertrude was missing currently, and not particularly relevant. However, it had seemed like the similarity was in her position as _Head Archivist,_ meaning that the same could potentially apply to the _current_ Head Archivist as well – in which case, there was a risk that the Head Archivist would be a similar monster, and another problem for her to investigate.

Basira sighed, running her hands through her hair. What she wouldn’t give to have her partner back, so she wouldn’t be on her own dealing with all of this.

-

“We might be clear to kill the bastard,” Sasha announced as she opened the door.

Tim jumped, looking up in time to see Martin fumble the mug he’d been holding.

Sasha and Jon seemed, on average, to be in slightly higher spirits than they’d left in, but only because Sasha’s mood had improved more than Jon’s seemed to have worsened. Understandable, considering what Jon had said of his history with the Web.

“No webs?” He asked, looking towards Jon, who shook himself out of whatever train of thought he had been lost in.

“Yeah. I mean- no. Wait, ah. Yes, there are no webs,” he replied.

Tim snorted.

“What do you mean, _might?_ ” Martin asked.

Sasha grabbed Jon’s arm to guide him over to the couch. “Annabelle knew how we’re tied to him! We know what specifically about his death could kill us, so if we can figure out how to prevent that specifically from happening, we’ll be fine!”

-

Martin and Sasha had continued to discuss options, but Tim honestly wasn’t inclined in getting too into the spooky metaphysics or whatever of the whole thing – when there was something to hit, they could tell him and he’d get right to it, but trying to understand the fear monsters or whatever? Nah, that could be their problem. Anyways, Jon had been looking a bit overwhelmed, so he’d grabbed Jon and moved them both to the bedroom, because his bed was literally the only other place multiple people could sit together comfortably and be away from whatever was happening in the living room. Technically, he had a small table to eat at, but that was basically in the same room as the couch, and the goal here was to get some space.

“So. How’s things?” He asked, sprawling out a bit on the bed – it was a _bed,_ that’s what it was _for._

Jon opted to sit like he had on the couch – sort of curled up, but upright. “I’m- well. I’m not fine, obviously, because I can’t physically _say_ that, but, well.”

“Jonathan Sims, are you trying to get around not being able to lie and say you’re fine by admitting that if you could say it was a lie you’d be lying, and then implying that you’re fine _anyways?_ ”

“I- ”

“Don’t answer that. Awful conversation with Annabelle, then? Anything specific bothering you that we can help with?”

“It wasn’t- well, it was? Maybe? There was a lot. Daisy was there. It’s…” He sighed and tilted slowly over so that he was lying on his side, still curled up in a ball.

“Did she hurt you?” Tim asked.

“ _No,_ no I- _I_ did. The hurting.” Jon took a breath. “ _I_ hurt _her._ And I mean, obviously, Sasha was talking to Annabelle Cane, and I wasn’t _there_ because Daisy was hunting _me_ so I had to lead her away but Sasha was on her _own_ with _Annabelle Cane_ and what if something had _happened-_ but, well. It felt good. To hurt her. Daisy. And, I don’t, I don’t know if there was another option, but I don’t _know_ if that was because I didn’t actually have the time or ability to _find_ another option or just because I didn’t _want_ for there to be. If I just _wanted_ to hurt her. And, and _you_ guys are _here_ and what if, what if I- ”

“Hey, hey. Breathe, okay? I know you don’t have to, but it might help anyways. If I hold your hand while it’s got eyes on it, is that going to cause a problem?”

“I- what? Oh, ah- ” the eyes on Jon’s hand closed and Tim reached out and squeezed it.

“So, obviously, I can’t really understand what things are like for you, because I’m not going through all of that, but from the outside, it seems like you _don’t_ want to hurt her?”

“ _Sure,_ I feel guilty _afterwards,_ but it’s not like _that’s_ ever stopped me! Do I even _care_ about the people I get statements from, or am I just trying to justify it to myself by saying I’m _helping?_ So I don’t have to face what I _am?_ ”

Tim coughed around the static trying to force him to answer a question he had no way of knowing for certain the answer to for a couple seconds before Jon winced and the static faded away.

“I just, I’m always _like_ this- ”

“No, no, let’s go back for a second,” Tim said, interrupting him before he could start another spiral. “So what if you’re only helping the people you get statements from to feel better about yourself, and not because you care about them?”

“I- what?”

“What’s the difference? Are you not doing your best to help them? Are there things you could do to help them _better_ that you aren’t doing?” Tim rolls shifts slightly so he can look at Jon instead of just gazing at the ceiling.

“You’re asking me the difference between caring about people and _not_ caring about people?”

“I guess I am… I’m being genuine, though. In the end, if you’re not helping them _less,_ why does it matter what motivated you? The people were helped either way, yeah? It’s not like there’s such a thing as being inherently a good or bad person. There’s just the choices you make. Helping people is helping people. Being a bitch is being a bitch. If you helped someone, you helped them.”

“I’d think helping people with ulterior motives would be different than just helping them to help, though.”

“Not really. The person was still helped. If you turn around and expect them to be indebted to you, the problem you helped solve is still solved, you’ve just also caused them an additional problem- ”

“Which is _what I’m doing-_ ”

“Yes, but that’s _nonnegotiable._ You’re not going to starve yourself, okay? That’s not happening. So, you helping people? That’s a net gain.”

Jon fell silent for a couple seconds, his – would it be rude to call them his normal eyes? – the eyes he always had closed and the rest staring off into space, looking at things Tim couldn’t see. He sighed, and then said quietly, “But hurting people feels _good._ ”

Tim thought about this. _He_ trusted Jon, but Jon didn’t trust himself. He could tell Jon that he didn’t think Jon would just go hurt people, but that wouldn’t be reassuring. He could say that he trusted Jon to do his best, but with how little Jon trusted himself, that would probably just cause him more stress. So, instead, he said, “If you can’t tell if what you’re doing is monstrous, you can ask me, and I’ll help.”

-

Martin noticed Tim guiding Jon to the bedroom and had to remind himself that Jon needed a break from all of this after having to deal with Annabelle Cane, and Tim was generally the least interested in trying to understand how the entities worked, so he was the one with the most reason to go hang out with Jon – not that Tim wasn’t competent, or anything! He really was very skilled, it was just that this wasn’t a topic he wanted to think about in depth.

Sasha gave him a look. “I thought you’d said you guys had talked?”

“I _did,_ it’s just. He recognizes I’m different from his Martin! He appreciates who _I_ am! It’s great!”

“But…?” Sasha raised one eyebrow.

“We’re _friends,_ ” Martin groaned, burying his face in the couch.

Sasha laughed. “I’m sorry, I- _you-_ ”

“He’s in love with _his_ Martin! I’m not his Martin! _Why_ am I surprised?”

“Martin,” Sasha said, visibly struggling to keep a straight face. “ _Please_ just ask him out.”

Instead of saying anything, Martin just grabbed one of the couch cushions and put it over his head.

“Seriously, though,” Sasha continued, prying the pillow out of Martin’s hands. They’re going to come out of there at some point and they’re going to think we’ve been talking about how to kill Douchard Magnus, and we’re going to have to tell them we spent the entire time discussing Martin’s gay crisis.”

Martin shot her a panicked look. “Okay, great point, what did you find out from Annabelle?”

“Nope! You’re going to agree to have _another_ conversation with Jon, and _then_ I’m going to tell you.” She laughed, presumably at the horror on his face.

“Do I _have_ to, though?”

“Yep!”

Martin glanced at the door to Tim’s bedroom. “… Okay. I will. At some point.”

“Martin- ”

“No, that is _all_ you’re getting from me. Tell me what you learned from Annabelle Cane.”

-

“ _Christ,_ Daisy,” Martin muttered, and then shook his head. “So, we need someone else to take Elias’ job, basically?”

“Or we might be able to cope with his position disappearing outright, as long as it’s slow enough to adjust,” Sasha responded. “But probably finding a way to take his job from him and give it to someone else would be easier.”

“I- should we ask Jon?”

“That’s what I was thinking. Why wouldn’t we? He’s the most powerful one of us, so if anyone can keep the Eye from squishing our brains or whatever it’d most likely be him, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just. He’s already been through so _much._ At least, can we not ask him about this today?”

Sasha nodded. Martin was a better judge of how well people were doing than her, anyways. There was a reason they’d decided that he was going to be the one to deal with the cops – actually, that still might end up happening, just differently than they’d thought.

“Actually, were you still planning to fake discovering Gertrude’s corpse in the tunnels? I mean, the situation with Basira and Daisy is a bit different now.”

Martin paused, thinking about it. “I think I might. I’ll take a few days poking around in the tunnels probably – we can find out if anything’s drastically different during that time – and then if it still seems like a good idea I’ll go call the cops. If nothing else, we might inconvenience Elias. Even if he can get out of prison, having him contained for a bit might give us some space to breathe.”

“I was thinking I could explore the tunnels a bit with you? It’s honestly mostly curiosity at this point, which could be a danger, I suppose, but I’d still like to be more familiar with them.”

“It’d make more sense to have a pair of people to explore the spooky tunnels that change than one person alone, anyways. Buddy system and all. Especially after the worms. Actually, what with Prentiss’ attack on the Institute, it’d probably be even more believable that we just found a corpse while exploring the tunnels because they already know we tend to do rash things on our own without calling for help. Exploring the spooky tunnels seems like a bit of a dumb move, but they probably won’t suspect any ulterior motive, even if we say we were literally just curious and don’t bother to come up with a better explanation.”

Sasha snorted. “They’ll believe us because they think we’re dumb, is it?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. If they’re going to underestimate us, we might as well take advantage of it, right?”

They sat there in silence for a bit, pondering next moves and how things might go, before the door to Tim’s bedroom slammed open. They both whipped around in time to see Tim shoot them both fingerguns as he said, “Get in here losers, we’re going cuddling!”

“Speaking of murder,” Martin said.

“Martin, no! I need him to help me with househunting! _Then_ we can kill him.”

Tim feigned shock. “Well I _suppose_ I can just lock this door and cuddle Jon _myself,_ if you guys insist on being like this.”

“ _I_ never threatened to kill you,” Martin said immediately. “I just said that we’d been talking about murder. Which we had! Murdering Jonah Magnus!”

“Am I _betrayed?_ By my own _friend?!_ ”

-

Daisy knew that Basira didn’t trust her version of events. That was… fair, she could understand where Basira was coming from. Had their positions been reversed, she probably would have thought that Basira had been manipulated or controlled as well, trying to argue in _favor_ of a monster. Still, being seen as a liability stung. Not as badly as thinking about what she’d seen, though.

She wasn’t sure what to do, where to go. Who she had been – she didn’t want to be that anymore, but that was all she knew how to be. Mostly she just felt lost, now. Basira was chasing the monster, and Daisy was here, in a ball on the couch, with no goal and no idea what she was doing. It was the first time she could remember being without some goal to chase, and it itched. She hated how aware she was of all the things she’d been able to ignore, now. No, she hated how well she’d ignored those things before. Maybe it was both?

Either way, Daisy was feeling weak with the need to chase someone, to hunt them down and make them _fear_ her, and she’d done this to herself. She could see, now, the path of her decisions, the draining away of her humanity in pursuit of the thrill of the chase, and she wanted to go back, to take a different path. She wasn’t sure she _could._

The man with the eyes had at least _tried_ not to hurt her. If she ignored the part of her brain searching for reasons to hunt and tear and kill, and decided to be charitable, the records the police had on him looked far less threatening than those of other monsters. He hadn’t hurt her until he’d been cornered, and she suspected he’d held back. He could have made her experience what she’d done to her victims in far more detail, she was willing to bet. All in all, not a stellar moral recommendation, but it was still far better than anything anyone could say about _her._ Maybe she could talk to him. Maybe he would know.

She had tried to _kill_ him, though. Would he even be willing to talk to her? And without leaning into the hunt – which she would not, _could_ not do – would she even be able to find him? Well, thinking like that wouldn’t get her anywhere. If she tried, and it didn’t work out, she could figure out what to do next then. Basira, she knew, had been visiting the Institute – apparently, they had some statements that might be about him there. Also, whenever she had needed to go near the building, she’d always had this horrible feeling of being watched. Maybe it was connected to the eye man? It would be a good place to start, at least. She would probably have to avoid Basira finding out, though. She’d just feel worse if she gave Basira more reasons to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> martin: i have a crush on jon  
> sasha and tim, simultaneously: thats gay
> 
> they go back to work next chapter unless i forget in which case they dont  
> well see  
> their break is two weeks but i have adhd and dont know how time works so their break is however long i want it to be


	22. [its tuesday i think] i didnt forget the characters forgot thats how it works

Going back to work was a bit terrible, Martin would readily admit. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for speaking poorly of his workplace. They were still all together – Jon had come, not wanting to be alone, and also because no one wanted to put up with Elias being able to See them – but it still wasn’t as comfortable as hanging out in Tim’s flat. From what Jon knew from his timeline, though, they couldn’t just skip work indefinitely – now that their leave was over, they’d get sick if they stayed away.

Jon didn’t get sick, but he was connected to the Eye itself, not through the weird janky connection Jonah Magnus had set up to control his employees, so his connection wasn’t localized like theirs were. _Technically,_ all the rest of them needed was proximity to either Elias or Jonah’s body in the Panopticon – they weren’t sure which, or if it was either or both – but Jonah had control over their connections to the Eye and if he felt like it, he could use those connections to make them feel worse. Getting _some_ work done seemed like the best bet, at least for as long as they still had to care what he thought about them.

Jon had actually been the one to bring up the idea of his finding a way to take Jonah Magnus’ role, saving Martin from having to ask more of him, on the way over. He’d agreed to be the spooky Head of the Institute, unless or until he could find a way to undo the need for that position, but said flat out that he was not going to actually be in charge of an actual organization. Either they were going to have to find someone else to fill Jonah’s bureaucratic role or they were just going to leave the Institute to fall apart. Honestly, Sasha didn’t need many statements, and Jon could find his own, so they might not even need to keep the Institute running to feed them.

Jon had headed to the Institute through the tunnels, so he wouldn’t accidentally run into Jonah, and presumably had the same reaction as the rest of them, but Martin didn’t see it.

Martin stepped into the Archives, and before he registered anything else, he heard the squish of worms beneath his shoe. They were, thankfully, less rotten than they could have been, he thought, but they were still covering _all_ of the floor, as well as plenty of other surfaces. Martin wanted to cry.

“He _can’t_ be expecting us to clean all of this,” Sasha breathed.

“Holy shit,” Tim added.

Martin heard a squishing sound – footsteps coming towards them – and looked up to see Jon speedwalking towards them, grimacing at the worms but in too much of a hurry to care.

“I forgot about the _not!them!_ ” He called, distressed, when he was close enough.

“Fuck,” Martin said.

-

Rose had been _replaced_ while they had all been celebrating successfully dealing with Prentiss. _Success?_ Rosie was _taken!_

Tim heard distantly Sasha saying something about Elias having had Rosie running errands like distracting her while she had been Watching from the fire system. It didn’t seem that important a detail to him – of _course_ Elias was responsible. Of _course_ he would do something like send Rosie into danger. He would be hoping not!Rosie would attack them all, too, to mark Sasha with the stranger. Jon had mentioned the not!them causing paranoia and suspicion, too.

“What are we doing about it?” He asked, his voice level only because no tone of voice could possibly convey even part of what he felt.

“We’ll have to try and lure it away from other people, or else try something late at night,” Sasha said. She turned to Jon. “Do you think you could manage something similar to what you said you did to- to the not!Sasha?”

“I think I could,” he replied. “I’m not _as_ strong now, but I think that should still be doable.”

“She has a child and two grandchildren,” Martin said. “What are we telling them?”

There was a pause, as everyone processed that.

“Does she?” Tim asked Jon.

Jon looked into the distance for a second, before saying, “yes. The younger grandchild is the one who remembers her.”

“I can’t imagine trying to _explain_ this- ” Sasha began.

“Can we fake her death?” Martin asked. “Is there a body left, afterwards?”

“Ah, vaguely,” Jon said, looking mildly disgusted at the memory.

“A fire?” Sasha suggested. “What doesn’t leave a very recognizable corpse?”

“What are relatively painless ways to die?” Martin asked. “We should spare her family as much pain as possible.”

“Can we, ah, deal with the not!them first? I, ah, I have a feeling. I might… well, I definitely have _more_ control, and… I just…” Jon interrupted.

“We won’t have as much time to fake her death,” Sasha said, frowning.

“Worst case scenario,” Tim said, trying to figure out the expression on Jon’s face, “we put the remains of the not!Rosie in the Archives and set them on fire. Then we won’t have to deal with the worms, it’s two for the price of one!”

Sasha snorted. “How sure are you that this will work out?” She asked Jon.

“I- very. It’s just, well, I don’t want to jinx it. I know that’s kind of stupid, ah- ”

“No worries. I’ll call ‘Rosie’, ask her if she can come down to the Archives, then? I’ll say I need her help with something.”

Sasha either Knew or had figured out what Jon was thinking of, and by the hopeful look on his face, Martin had at least an idea. Tim didn’t, but he figured he’d find out pretty soon.

-

Martin could understand Jon not wanting to speak his suspicion aloud, if he’d guessed right about what Jon was thinking. _He_ couldn’t bring himself to speak it aloud to ask if he was correct. Once it had been said, it would feel real, and if it didn’t work out, it would hurt all the more for that. This way, if it didn’t happen, they could all pretend that they weren’t devastated for having their hopes crushed. If Rosie – the _real_ one… no, he couldn’t even think it to himself.

“Hello? Sasha?” Rosie’s – no, _not_ Rosie, this _wasn’t_ Rosie, the _not!them’s_ – voice came down the stairs with the sound of her footsteps. “What was it you needed?”

“I’ve got a couple scheduling questions,” Sasha responded, her voice as even as it would be if this was actually Rosie coming to help her.

“Alright, then,” the not!them said, opening the door to the Archives. “Any reason- _oh._ ”

Her – its? - voice shifted on that last syllable. Martin’s brain still recognized it as unquestionably Rosie’s voice, as much as he tried to remind himself that this _wasn’t_ Rosie, but it sounded _wrong_ now. It was Rosie’s voice, but it wasn’t a _person’s_ voice.

Tim was standing between the not!them and Sasha, Martin noted. He’d found a baseball bat somewhere.

The not!them shifted as if to move, and Tim shifted as if to try and hit it through several bookshelves, but then Jon spoke, and Martin’s world shrank.

He was vaguely aware of the space around him – Sasha, Tim, and Jon all standing with him, the worms on the floor crushed where people had stepped on them – but it seemed faded, forgettable. Jon’s words filled the air, but he could not focus on them long enough to make any meaning out of the sounds he heard. The not!them, however, he could see in perfect detail. There was nothing scary about it, when he saw it like this. It was just a thing, on the ground, barely even real. What threat could it hold, when it couldn’t even hold an identity?

-

Tim remembered what Jon had said about his nightmares – standing, watching, unable to look away. He wondered if this was like that, in a sense. It would be a less extreme sort of version, because Tim could think about things other than what he was looking at, and could, with some concentration, twitch his eyes to see Jon, Sasha, and Martin all looking at the not!them as well. He couldn’t get his feet to move, though, but he figured if he did try to take a step, there would be every chance he’d fall and land in the worms, and moving wasn’t that urgent, anyways.

So, he just sat back – metaphorically, because he couldn’t move, and even if he could he wouldn’t sit because the floor was covered in worms – and watched.

-

The thing that was not Rosie screamed, as much as it could with its false approximation of a throat and lungs. The closest thing she had to skin tore and peeled as it was revealed to not properly fit the frame beneath it. The fibers of her being were visible, now – twisting around the frame she had constructed to hold them, threading through the skin and pulling at limbs and forming things that might, under other circumstances, be confused for organs.

As the weight of the Watching eyes grew, those fibers were pulled meticulously apart, sorted strand by strand, each held separate as to be clearly seen. The body unwound, its strange and uncanny frame – white like bone, white like PVC pipe – clattering to the floor without the threads of life and existence to hold it together.

Then

it

stopped.

Sasha took a gasping breath and blinked, suddenly noticing how her eyes were burning. The fibers of the not!Rosie snapped back into a humanoid shape, as they were meant to be when not pried apart for easier viewing.

She was still trying to reorient herself, confused like she always was when she woke up but standing this time, when she heard Martin ask, tentatively, “Did it work?”

The figure gasped, and tried to sit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally everyone outside the archives: I dont know whats going on in the archives and at this point im too scared to ask


	23. [tuesday... 2!] are ya yearning son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw the floor is covered in worms that have been dead for two weeks

Rosie didn’t know where she was. It wasn’t where she’d been, she didn’t think. Where _had_ she been?

Sasha had been there, right? Yes, she’d seen Sasha. She’d seen Sasha, and then… Sasha had been behaving weirdly, somehow – Rosie couldn’t quite remember. What she could remember was the confusion, and the worry about some kind of safety hazard?

Elias hadn’t known either, but he’d said it was probably fine and so Rosie hadn’t been too worried about it. The Archives had always been a strange place. Weird things happened around there all the time.

He’d had… some sort of errand for her, she remembered. Wanted her to fetch something from Artefact Storage. The staff had all been busy on a project, and he hadn’t wanted to bother them. It’s not like she was _also_ busy, _no._ Honestly, he never thought about the work _she_ did.

But she’d gone anyways, because he was her boss and she did generally like her job well enough.

And then…

And then?

There had been _pain._ Rosie didn’t think that she would ever forget that. The very essence of her, pulled apart and reshaped into something that was not her. She’d thought she was going to die. She’d thought she would be in pain forever.

Every part of her _ached,_ sure, but not so badly as it had.

She was lying face down on the ground.

When she noticed that, she went to push herself up, and- _oh._ The ground went _squish_ beneath her hand and clung to her face. Shifting her weight to get up just made her more aware of the terrible feeling of whatever she was lying on top of, which just made her more desperate to get up.

Someone coughed and she startled, turning to see someone’s hand in front of her face. Oh, Martin Blackwood. He was offering to help her get up. She took his hand and let him pull her up out of the… goop? Ooze? Mess covering the floor.

“There’s a shower over that way,” a voice she didn’t recognize said.

She turned to see who it was and froze, her legs almost giving out under her.

They had _so many_ eyes. They were person-shaped, yes, in a jumper and a long skirt that was actually a very nice shade of green, but there were eyes on their _hands,_ on their _neck,_ and all over the parts of their face that wouldn’t normally have eyes.

Their eyes blinked, all at once, and then they put an eye covered hand over their mouth. “Hang on,” they said, in the sort of stressed voice Rosie knew to expect from people who had just realized that a deadline they hadn’t been aware of had passed a couple days ago. Their eyes all closed, and Rosie didn’t look to see if they still had eyelids visible. “Sorry.”

“Ah,” Martin said. “That’s Jon. By the way. He’s… here?”

“It certainly does seem that way,” Rosie responded, her voice faint.

-

Martin had walked Rosie over to the shower and agreed to answer her questions as best he could when she came out, and Sasha had left to try and find some clothes that might fit her between the assorted clothes collected at Tim’s flat – she’d said Jon had a couple things that should fit – and Sasha leaving meant that Elias could See them all so Jon had gone down to the tunnels to hide from him, which meant that Tim was currently alone cleaning the Archives. Ugh.

Jon had taken a couple bins down to the tunnels with him to begin cleaning the worms out of the tunnels, so at least they were suffering together, even if they weren’t in the same room.

Of course, worm cleaning solidarity wasn’t even enough to make up for having to clean up worms, let alone having to clean up worms while feeling Elias’ smug little eyes pressed directly against the back of his neck. He thought about going and yelling at Elias for leaving the Archive staff to deal with this, but he already pretty much knew what sorts of things Elias could do to punish him and he figured he’d wait to push until it was necessary. Some things he did _not_ need to see another perspective on.

Instead, he decided to cope by pretending that instead of scooping worm corpses off the Archive floor, he was scooping Elias’ eyes out of his head. That made him feel a little better.

-

Jon had gone down into the tunnels while Sasha was away, but Martin could still feel him Watching. Sasha was, too, and so he could almost put up with the fact that Elias was Looking as well. He’d forgotten how _bad_ Elias always felt while he’d been on break, although it seemed obvious in hindsight.

Sasha’s gaze had always felt relatively calming, considering it was a power from an eldritch power that feeds on fear. So sure, sue him, it gave him a bit of anxiety, but the anxiety was always outweighed by the knowledge (the Knowledge?) that she wasn’t going to hold his mistakes against him, that she was Watching over him, not to find something to hurt him with.

Jon, well… having someone he had such a large crush on Looking at him so intently, even if that was how they looked at pretty much everyone, was never going to be remotely calming. This was probably _helped_ by not being near Jon, honestly, because Martin couldn’t see his eyes then. Then it felt less like the man he had a crush on and more like some being outside his understanding Watching him – he didn’t need to worry much about judgment because whatever was watching wouldn’t even have the same standards as him. Wholly dispassionate in a strangely comforting manner. Wanting to Know for the sake of Knowing, instead of in order to make some comment on Martin’s worth as a person. He didn’t want to mention that to Jon – that he didn’t feel at all human to Martin, even if Martin wasn’t really bothered by that.

Elias, though, was like someone watching his work over his shoulder, waiting with bated breath for him to slip up so they could reveal his mistakes to the world. It felt like he was standing alone on a stage in front of thousands, a spotlight on him, and the speech he’d prepared would be picked over for years to come. It didn’t feel like he’d forgotten his lines, but rather like the lines he had to say and the practice he’d had with ways to say them were all inadequate. Like his best was not good enough, and soon everyone would know.

Martin missed having Jon and Sasha both around.

He checked his phone to see that Sasha would be back in about five minutes, and sighed in relief. Rosie was done with her shower, and she’d opted to just wait in the bathroom for Sasha to bring her some clothes rather than to walk around with just underwear and a towel.

“Sasha’ll be here in about five minutes,” he said, knocking on the bathroom door to get Rosie’s attention.

“Thanks,” she replied.

While he’d been waiting earlier, he’d tried to clear up some of the worms around him, but he didn’t really have anything to pick them up with. He’d tried using a fake statement, a tape recorder, another, slightly different tape recorder, and just using the trashcan itself to scoop them, but none of it had really worked. He hadn’t tried using his hands, and he wasn’t going to.

-

Sasha was heading back to the Archives with some clothes for Rosie in a tote bag, when she was stopped in the entry to the Institute by Jonah Rat Bastard Magnus. She wasn’t particularly surprised – she’d Seen him hanging around while she was still in Tim’s flat and she’d figured he was there for her, but it was still irritating to have to talk to him.

“Ah! Archivist! I was looking for you!” He called, his cheery expression doing nothing, Sasha noted with amusement, to hide his unnerved confusion and worry.

“Douchard.” It took Sasha embarrassingly long to realize what she’d said on muscle memory. Once her brain had caught up, though, she just raised her chin a bit, challenging the terrible little man to argue with her. “What do you want?”

He grit his teeth visibly, but apparently decided not to fight her on that. “I would _appreciate_ if you would make sure to write up a statement on what happened in the Archives with Rosie, and earlier during your conversation with Annabelle Cane. It could contain useful information for the other departments. So far in your tenure, most of the… problems of that sort have been contained to the Archives, but- ”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Sasha responded, smiling. “You don’t care about the staff, you’re just bitter you couldn’t Watch. I’ll consider your report, but first I have to get Rosie some clothes and help clean the _worms_ out of my Archives.”

She walked past him before he could respond, nudging him out of her way with her shoulder. The only conceit she made to the fact that he was, in fact, still a threat to her was to walk a bit faster than normal, and to count on him to be unwilling to make a fuss out in the open like they were. In her Archives, she’d be safe, she thought, and there were too many people out here for him to try anything.

As she entered her Archives, she felt Douchard’s gaze lift. She would have said it was replaced by Jon’s gaze, but that would be such an incredible insult to Jon that she could barely even think the concept before physically shaking her head at how wrong it was.

Jon’s Sight was comforting in a way that unnerved her – it reminded her distinctly of her dreams, with the Eye Watching her as she Watched the people in front of her as they suffered. That it was comforting concerned her, because she felt fairly strongly that her dreams should be negative to her, and yet she couldn’t even bring herself to call them nightmares. To say that they were nightmares would be too much of a lie, and if she had to be completely honest, she’d admit that Jon’s Watching her irritated her by making it harder to forget that during the day.

She winced as the worms squished under her feet, remembering that she would have to help clean them up as soon as she got Rosie some clothes. Dragging her feet and walking slowly was tempting, but that would just be leaving everyone else to clean without her for longer, and as much as she didn’t want to deal with the worms, she didn’t want to abandon everyone else to deal with the worms even more.

-

Jon half-limped out of the tunnels and over to Tim, leaning more heavily on his cane than he typically did, as soon as Sasha had returned, and Tim sighed with relief to see that he was still relatively alright.

“If you’re hurting, you can take a break,” Tim offered.

Jon blinked at him, apparently surprised, and then looked around as if to ask where exactly he would sit.

“Here you go.” Tim pushed everything off Sasha’s desk, figuring she’d forgive him once she saw the mess. There hadn’t been many worms up on her desk, and it was fairly clean with all the papers now on the floor. Jon winced as the statements hit the floor but gave him a thankful look and climbed up on the desk.

“Do you need anything to sit on?” Tim asked.

“Did any pillows even survive- no, they didn’t. I’m pretty sure the softest thing here to sit on is the worms, and I’ll pass on that,” Jon replied. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem.”

Tim was a bit of a hypocrite, he thought, as he went back to cleaning worms. He didn’t like the feeling of Sasha Looking at him, because it reminded him of how he hadn’t caught on to what was going on in the Institute fast enough. He hadn’t been able to protect her and Martin – but her especially – from all of this. He wasn’t bothered by Jon, though, and there was the hypocrisy. He’d never known Jon as a human, and so it didn’t feel like a loss that Jon wasn’t human. Sasha, though. She _had_ been human, and it felt like a failure on his part that she wasn’t entirely one anymore. Telling her about this would just be burdening her with things that shouldn’t be her problem – he _knew_ his guilt was irrational, but that didn’t get rid of it. All he knew to do was to try and remind himself that it wasn’t his fault when he caught himself thinking about it. Maybe he’d believe it at some point.

-

Rosie did _not_ want to end up caught up in whatever was going on in the Archives. She wanted to know _something_ about what happened, so she could be aware of what impacts it’d had on her life and work around that, but she was also aware that if she knew enough, she would probably be expected to be part of whatever this was. Even if knowledge _wouldn’t_ drag her into this, somehow, she didn’t want to know. She liked being able to sleep.

Martin seemed to understand this, because he didn’t just try to start explaining once they’d cleared some chairs off as best they could and draped the towels Sasha had gotten over them. Instead, he sat there, nervously fiddling with the edge of the towel.

“What _was_ that?” Rosie asked. “Generally, I mean.”

“It… replaces people? Ah, it makes things so that everyone except one person can’t tell the difference.” At her look of confusion, Martin backtracked. “What do you remember?”

“I was in Artefact Storage, and then there was… pain? And then I was here. I got replaced by something?”

“Yeah. It’s… dead, now.” Martin looked like he was trying to decide what else to say.

Rosie figured she’d help him out a bit. “What’s it been doing while I was replaced?”

“Oh! Mostly normal human person things, probably. It’s been about… two weeks? I don’t think it would have done anything super weird. It was way less friendly than you usually are, though. That was a bit weird, but I think everyone just chalked it up to stress. Ah, sorry.”

“No worries,” she responded, getting up. “So, some monster just sort of lived my life for me for two weeks?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hope it didn’t mess up my organization. See you around, then?”

“Wh- oh, yeah! Sure!”

“Great! Here, I’ll see if I can’t get anyone sent down to help you all. This is ridiculous, expecting you guys to clean up all of this.”

Martin smiled gratefully. “Elias is just upset with us, honestly. It’s going to be miserable cleaning this up and we’re desperate for any help you can give us, but don’t get anyone in trouble. It’s not worth it.”

“Alright,” Rosie said, trying not to think about what would be happening in the Archives that their boss making them clean up all of the worms after having been attacked by worms was something that they were willing, if not happy, to put up with. She resolved not to clear any help she got them with Elias. It would be the least she could do.

-

Daisy growled low in her throat before immediately cutting herself off when she saw that the Archives were closed for cleaning. Her instincts demanded that she head downstairs anyways, pursue the lead in front of her regardless of how rude or upsetting it might be to anyone involved along the way, but she took several deep breaths and promised herself that she would check back daily and ask her questions when they were actually open.

Visiting the Institute had at least confirmed for her that there was some connection to the eye man. For the most part, even though she felt watched, the watching felt completely different and she’d been about ready to brace herself for disappointment in whatever answers she would get from the Archives – even if the building wasn’t connected, it was the lead she had and she wouldn’t drop it unless she got a better one. For a second, though, while she’d been reading the notice for the Archives’ closure, she’d felt the eye man looking at her. Even if she wanted to doubt it, to think she was mistaken or imagining things, the part of her that still considered him prey had sat up and howled, deep in her heart, and she’d known it was him.

So, she would be back. Hopefully he would have some idea for what to do and who to be. Or at least a direction for her, where she’d be able to find answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rosie: trying to get up  
> the worm floor: squish  
> rosie: trying to get up Faster  
> the worm floor: squishsquishsquish
> 
> sasha: sorry I have a condition its called common sense and it makes me lose my shit whenever im near elias douchard actually you know what I changed my mind im not sorry he can get fucked


	24. [time is fake actually] nothing but disrespect for douchard and respect michael

“Sasha, I’d really appreciate if you could get me that report,” Douchard tried.

“I’d really appreciate if there weren’t worms all through the computer I’d write that report on,” Sasha threw over her shoulder, struggling to pull a bin full of worms up the stairs.

-

“Sasha, if you could take a few minutes- ”

“Sorry, bast- I mean boss, can’t abandon Tim and Martin to this mess.”

-

“The Archives are basically clean now, are they not?”

“Well, we thought so, but we just found a bunch more of them,” Sasha said, not mentioning that they were also cleaning all the worms out of the tunnels.

-

“Surely _now_ you can- ”

“We’re so behind on everything now, I just don’t think it’s practical.”

“Not _practi- How_ would it be _not practical_ to inform me of what is happening to _my_ staff in _my_ Institute?!”

“Well, first of all, it happened in _my_ Archives, thank you very much. And secondly? I have it handled. Thank you for your concern, but it’s unnecessary.”

-

Jon felt a little bad. Well, he felt a lot of things, and most of them were positive if he was being honest with himself, but he did feel a little bit bad. It probably averaged out to something resembling happiness, but the feeling bad was there and he’d take it.

He was back in Michael’s corridors.

They were beautiful, now that he had an excuse to Look. When he’d been there before, he’d just been trying to leave, and he hadn’t been able to think of any reason he’d _have_ to Look around, and it would have been rude. _Now,_ though, he _had_ to Look, to find Helen. If he lingered on the way some edges met, or the fractals hidden in the paint on the walls, well. As long as _most_ of what he was doing was useful, he could justify the rest.

This was hurting Michael, which was why he felt a bit bad. Michael, the Distortion, was meant to be infinite, sprawling, paying no heed to any sort of rationality or comprehension, not pinned out flat on a corkboard like a dead insect. Its halls were not meant to be mapped, even if charted out, they looked so gorgeous. Jon shook his head, reminding himself to focus on finding Helen.

Helen.

Helen hadn’t been that surprised when she opened the door to leave the Head Archivist’s office and found herself back in this winding, twisting hell. She was a bit angry with Sasha, for letting her walk through the door, but she knew that was probably unfair of her. If anyone should have recognized it, it would be her, not Sasha. Mostly, she was just afraid.

Jon didn’t bother to turn. The hallway did, but it didn’t really exist in any real way. He walked in a straight line, and because the Distortion conceptualized of itself as a bunch of corridors with people walking through them, he stayed in a hallway. He was still within the Distortion, after all, and ‘inside the Distortion’ was hallways and corridors. If you tried to break out through a wall, you wouldn’t succeed, because there was no such thing as an ‘outside’ to break through to.

Helen did not know that everything was halls, and that no matter where she walked there would always be a hallway. She believed the lie that the walls existed, that there was any outside for them to be a barrier to, that there was a structure for them to be part of, and she listened when they said they were solid.

The hallways never changed when she could see. They didn’t change when she blinked, either, as near as she could tell. There was never any difference, from one moment to the next. When things changed, and they always did, she could never quite place when the change had happened. Sometimes, she’d realize the walls were a different color, and had been for some time. She’d remember that they’d been another color, at some point, and she’d been able to see the walls the whole time, and they’d never changed, but they weren’t that color anymore.

For a while, she’d been sure that the hallways were changing somehow; that somehow, they’d changed while she was looking. Maybe they had some power to stop her from noticing, no matter how alert she’d tried to be. She was losing confidence in that, though. Could she really be sure that the walls had ever been that other color? Maybe she was mistaken.

She was mistaken, of course. Nothing in the corridors had any color, and everything in the corridors was every color. Helen could only see one color, not more and not less, and so every time she realized that the walls were a color, she’d think that this meant that they were no longer the other color.

Jon felt tempted, for a second, to take a little longer than necessary finding Helen. He would still _save_ her, of course, but once he found her he would leave and he wouldn’t have an excuse to be here, Looking at the Distortion. Then the rest of his brain caught up with his train of thought, and he winced. No, he wasn’t going to leave her here for longer than necessary.

Would it really matter that much? He was leaving all the other people here, after all.

It would matter to Helen.

She wouldn’t know, though.

He would.

“Hey,” he called.

Helen spun around to face him so quickly she nearly fell flat on her face. Jon flinched back, still not quite comfortable with quick movements.

“Who are you?” She looked suspicious, but that was entirely reasonable, everything considered.

“I’m- I’m Jon. I can get you out of here.”

Jon Knew she was hoping he was at least sort of trustworthy. The other people she’d run into had all been afraid, had all wanted to escape, but they’d all looked like they belonged, in a sense. She was afraid she looked like that. Jon, he Knew, didn’t have anything about his appearance that she could place as off or different, but he looked how she wanted to (wished she could) look. Completely out of place. The corridors looked like normal corridors, and he looked like a normal human, and there was nothing inherently out of place with the idea of a normal human standing in a normal corridor, and yet Jon, standing in these corridors, looked somehow Wrong to her.

Helen tried to make herself pause, think, consider, but he Knew she’d made up her mind the second he’d offered to help.

“Okay. Which way?”

-

Somehow, Michael was even less sure of what to make of Jonathan Sims than it had been. When he’d shown up, it had been clear that he’d had a goal, and Michael hadn’t been willing to get between him and whatever he had been trying to do. His Looking had _hurt,_ like Michael had figured it would when it had first met him.

It had realized, though, that he hadn’t really been attacking it. It wasn’t sure he had meant it any harm besides that which he’d caused by taking Helen Richardson. Jon had seemed more… admiring, than anything, and Michael didn’t know what to make of that.

It had been refreshing as much as it had hurt. No one else was ever in any state to notice the things Jon had, and it had been nice to have someone See it and like it _better_ for that. Before it had been Michael, it had never thought about things like that, and before Michael had been it, what he’d thought had been good opinion had just been someone looking to make use of him. Even Michael had disliked it, before they had Become, and it had disliked Michael in return, and now Michael _was_ it and it _was_ Michael. That it could be considered anything positive or even admirable was a new idea. It hadn’t realized it could like itself, before. Having had its own qualities pointed out to it, though, it realized that there were some parts of it that it did in fact enjoy.

Michael thought the colors of its corridors were very nice, once it thought about it. The people wandering through, trying and failing to parse what seemed so pretty to it was funny. Its sprawling, labyrinthine shape was pleasing, even if it was horrifying to those who were so determined to understand. The floors were as cold and hard as tile and yet as soft and comfortable as carpet, and it realized it could think of this as good – realized that it had thought it was only allowed to hate itself.

That being said, Michael still felt shaky and cracked where Jon had forced it into relative sanity to find Helen, and then made it _even more_ reasonable once he had been guiding Helen out. It felt brittle like porcelain and about as tough as soaked paper and it knew it would take a while to be even mostly recovered.

Normally, it wasn’t one to let people escape forever, but it didn’t really want a repeat of what had happened. Michael decided it would not take Helen again, although it might show up a couple times to startle her. It might be funny, to see what she would do if its door turned up yet again.

-

The man – Jon, he had said – led her through a door and into sunlight. Helen couldn’t even bring herself to mind that the door had opened directly into a bush that they’d had to climb out of, which was in a yard surrounded by a fence they’d had to climb over. Jon was stronger than he looked, she found, as he helped her get over the fence.

He led her away from the house with the yard that the door had been in, and to a park so that they could sit. She’d expected… something? An explanation? A suggestion for what to do next? A request? But he just sat there, staring into the distance awkwardly, fidgeting with his cane.

She’d figured, with how out of place he’d looked in the hallways, that he’d fit the world around him once they escaped, figured he’d had some tie to the world that she didn’t have that allowed him to find the way out so easily when she had been stuck for so long. He didn’t. He fit in slightly better, she thought, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he fit the world around him or if the world around him was more able to fit him.

For a minute or two, maybe – her sense of time had been mediocre at best before the hallways, and it had gotten so much worse – she waited to see if he would figure out what he was going to do, before deciding that he probably wasn’t.

“So… what now?”

He jumped, and Helen wondered if he’d even been thinking about anything relevant, or if he’d completely spaced out.

“Ah, well,” he started, before his skin darkened a bit with embarrassment. “I hadn’t really… planned ahead? This far?”

She’d sort of figured that any plan he’d have would have been specifically _for_ afterwards – how do you plan to retrieve someone from a place like that? Go in through door, find person, go out through door didn’t really seem like a plan at all.

“So, what? I get a couple hours before another door comes and takes me again? I appreciate it, really, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but- ”

“Oh! Oh, no, I really doubt Michael will keep going after you now,” he said, as if that meant anything.

“Michael?”

“Oh, yeah, its- it basically… controls? The hallways.”

Helen stared at him, trying to decide what question to ask first.

-

Jon wasn’t really sure what to do. He knew, empirically, that knowledge could be as dangerous as ignorance when dealing with the entities, but it had always been hard for him to judge what information was necessary and it had only gotten harder over time. His inclination was to give people whatever information they wanted – his inclination was to give people information whether or not they wanted it, but he understood why he shouldn’t do that – and Helen wanted to know what was going on.

He was probably one of the worst people to be deciding what’s best for someone else, but telling her would be as much his decision as not doing that, and he knew he’d find a way to blame himself either way. If she didn’t have enough information, she wouldn’t be able to make a decision for herself, but if she got information she wouldn’t have the option to not know that. Jon did have to remind himself of that sometimes – that some people would rather not know some things.

There was no way he was going to be that bastard who tells people they don’t need to know or whatever when it comes to things that directly concern them, so he outlined how the Distortion functioned in case it managed to trap her again, even though he Knew it wouldn’t even try. It seemed reasonable enough to fill her in on the broader concept as well, that being the existence of monsters that feed on fear, so he did that as well. The specifics of the Entities and everything involving that was what he was stuck on. _Would_ he be endangering her more by not telling her? Or would she try to investigate on her own and end up in even more danger in the process.

He did know one place that had information but was safe. Maybe she could go there and learn what she wanted without being in danger?

No, wait. _Were_ the Archives safe? On instinct, he thought they were, but really, when had they ever been? The Archives are _home,_ a part of him insisted. If they aren’t safe, I’ll _make_ them safe.

But would they be safe for Helen Richardson, human, to be in? To be associated with? Because she probably wouldn’t live there. Martin and Tim and Sasha didn’t. Yet, that same part of him insisted. Maybe it was a bit inaccurate to say ‘a part’, as if there were one part, separate from the rest of him, saying that. It would be nice, he thought. Staying in Tim’s flat with everyone is home, and the Archives are home, and it would be nice for both of his homes to be the same place.

Helen elbowed him, gently, and he realized he’d been silent for a while.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. “I’m not sure… well, you know what? There’s more information in the Archives, and more people you can talk to openly than just, well, me. The Archives are… sort of counter, at least partially, to the Distortion. You could go there?”

“The Magnus Institute?” Helen asked, clearly skeptical. “That’s where the Distortion took me from.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed. “And it _won’t_ manage that again.”

Helen looked a little perturbed, but she nodded anyways. “Have they figured out more since I was there last?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“I’ll go, then. Do you know where we are?”

“Yeah, ah- this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The floor and ceiling in the distortion arent real either but jon accepted the lie on purpose so he could walk to helen instead of just falling into her or something  
> I mean gravity also isnt real but generally, jon decided to accept a few lies to make the whole experience more tolerable. also he was curious about what the hallways were like. even if their appearance is a lie the experience of walking in them isnt
> 
> jon, Looking: ooh pretty  
> michael: im flattered but like in the way if someone dissected you, said your organs are pretty, and then put them back in your body. except in this metaphor you choose what your organs look like. so on one hand its nice to be appreciated. but on the other hand please dont
> 
> also-  
> michael: i have discovered Self Worth


	25. Basira Is Coming

The Magnus Institute scared Helen. It was the same the first time she went there, but she had brushed it off as worry no one would believe her and fear of what had trapped her. On her return, though, she could see that it wasn’t just her circumstances – the building itself made her more fearful. Having been trapped in the Distortion’s corridors twice now, she could identify the creeping fear warning her that something that seemed innocent was actually a threat. If that wasn’t enough, had she been disinclined to trust herself after her experiences with the Spiral, she really only had to glance at Jon to be confident in that assessment. Whatever way he’d seemed out of place in the corridors, out of place in the park, it felt completely natural to see him in the Institute.

“Hello, Rosie,” Jon said, leading her past a woman sitting at a desk.

“Hello, Jon,” the woman – Rosie – replied without looking up.

Helen heard Rosie call something after them as they walked away, sounding confused, but Jon was walking quickly and Helen didn’t really want to lose him – even if she _was_ pretty sure she could get where they were going on her own – so she didn’t stop to listen.

The Archives were more of a mess than they’d been last time she’d been there, with boxes all over the floor and several shelves either partially put together or partially taken apart. The floor looked like it had been torn out and replaced in some patches, and other patches looked in far worse condition than she remembered them being.

Before Helen could look around much more, though, she heard someone calling her name, and turned to see a woman – Sasha, Helen remembered – rushing over.

“It’s good to see you’re alright,” Sasha said to Helen, shooting Jon a confused look. “Why did…?”

“I don’t really have any sense of what is and isn’t appropriate to tell people, anymore? She wanted answers, and I thought it’d probably be best for her to talk to… someone other than me, I guess.”

“Why?” Helen asked him, genuinely curious. “You seem like you know plenty about whatever’s going on.”

“I have a tendency to… overshare. It’s hard for me to tell how much detail is actually important, and, well. There’s a lot of unpleasant details involved in all this, so I figured I’d spare you the unnecessarily gory details.”

“Hmm… Hey, Tim!” Sasha called.

From deeper in the Archives, someone responded that they were coming.

“He’s probably the best to actually explain things,” Sasha said. “I’d probably overshare like Jon would, even if I wouldn’t be as bad.”

Helen startled at the sound of a door opening, but when she turned around it was just someone walking into the Archives through the same door she and Jon had. Whoever it was didn’t look like how Jon had described Michael, and Helen took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself a bit. Even though the people here knew what she’d been through, there was no need to look crazy jumping at small things like doors opening. She thought she did a pretty good job disguising her reaction, but Jon gave her a reassuring glance and shifted his weight so he was slightly between her and the door anyways. It made her feel a bit better, even if there was no real threat.

-

Martin had a lot on his mind. Basira had called ahead, saying she was researching something – any guesses? – and he’d offered to help her sort through the mess that the Archives were in. Apparently, she’d already gotten permission from Elias and she’d been in a bit while they were all out, but she was hoping she’d have more luck now that the Archives were slightly less of a disaster.

He was trying to decide what to do about Gertrude’s corpse. It felt a bit callous, making decisions about what to do with someone’s dead body based on what would help them, but it wasn’t like Gertrude could care what happened to her body anymore, so it might as well be useful. Jon had mentioned finding that Gertrude had cut the eyes out of everything in her flat – if Martin discovered that while investigating her death, it would draw a cleaner connection to the Archives for her investigation than she already had and it would probably get them some of her sympathy.

If he could get from there to convincing her that _Elias_ was the true eye monster, that would be great, but she probably already had descriptions of Jon and just giving her another monster to go after wouldn’t necessarily get her off his case.

The danger with all of that would be in the case that he did convince her further of the potential threats of eye monsters, and then _didn’t_ succeed at convincing her of Elias’ connections to it all. If that happened, then he’d have just made her even more antagonistic towards Jon.

He could discover Gertrude’s corpse and _not_ make the connection to all of the spooky eye stuff. A murder at the Institute would automatically be a sectioned case, even if he didn’t point out anything spooky at all. If _that_ was the route he wanted to go, he’d probably have to do something about everything in Gertrude’s flat with the eyes cut out to stop Basira from potentially making that connection. She and Daisy would probably be the ones assigned to the case – especially with Basira already having been to the Institute some.

Then again, that would be risking Daisy going after Sasha the way she went after Jon in his original timeline, because presumably the reasoning that Archivist = monster would be the same here. Additionally, with their case seemingly irrelevant to hers, Basira might not bother to put much effort in, and if she follows any leads away from the Institute trying to find Jon, they won’t be able to influence her as easily.

Outright trying to convince her that Jon _wasn’t_ a monster would be ideal, but Martin didn’t think he’d be able to even slip in more than a handful of comments wondering if the ‘eye monster’ was really that bad without Basira assuming that the Archives were complicit. That would keep her coming around, maybe somewhere in there he’d still have a chance to change her mind, and at the very least he’d be able to keep an eye on her, but they need her to trust them when it comes to Rayner.

Actually, Martin thought, it might be able to get her the information she’ll need early. He could connect the Dark to the Eye pretty easily because they both have to do with what people can see, and if she’s looking for a way to fight a spooky monster that sees things she’d probably be interested in all the stuff that’s associated with not seeing as well. That could potentially be arming her against Jon, or even Sasha if she catches on to that, but it might work.

This was what was going through Martin’s brain instead of I Should Look In Front Of Me While I Walk when he walked into the Archives and promptly tripped and fell over Jon and someone else. The other person wasn’t Basira and wasn’t Daisy and he didn’t have enough room in his thoughts to be stressed about something new, so instead of thinking about the new person he turned to Jon.

“What are you _doing_ here?” he hissed. “Basira’s coming! She wants you _dead!_ ”

Jon blinked, dusting off his skirt, and the rest of Martin’s brain caught up with him.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I don’t mean- I was just stressed, of _course_ you already thought about that- ”

“Martin, it’s fine. You’re right, I did forget that, and it was a huge risk. Thank you for reminding me.”

Martin stared at him, trying to remember how to put words together into sentences.

“Sasha,” Jon said, turning away for a second. “Do you think I could get away with hiding in your office? The tunnels are still… well, I’d like to avoid them, if I can.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve got a big desk, you can hide under it if anyone comes in.”

“Hey boss!” Tim called, emerging from between the shelves.

Martin was vaguely aware of Jon taking him by the elbow and leading him over to sit down.

“Wait- Basira!” Martin said.

“She isn’t here yet,” Jon responded. “Are- how- hm.” He frowned. “Do remember to take breaks, yeah? You’ve got all of us to help you, too.”

“Ah- okay, um, it’s just- I’m mostly fine, really, I’m just… stressed.”

“With everything going on, I’d be shocked if you weren’t. I’m going to go hide,” Jon continued, standing up. “Best of luck to you. Worst case scenario, Tim hits her with his baseball bat and we hope she forgets everything.”

-

Sasha helped Tim clear out space in the room Martin had stayed in – he’d been planning to talk with Helen at his desk, but that was out in the open and with Basira coming over, she thought maybe they should be a bit more discreet. There was enough space for Tim and Helen to sit and talk, and it was out of the way enough that they shouldn’t have to worry about Basira. There were some statements in there, but they could just say that area was off limits at the moment while they were trying to get everything in order, and it was soundproof so she wouldn’t be able to hear Tim and Helen talking. It was a bit inconvenient in that Helen and Tim would have to stay there until someone came to tell them Basira had left, but they’d both seemed fine with it. There were some cards in there if they got really bored.

When she got back to her office, she found that Jon had wrapped himself in blankets and curled up under her desk with a book. She tucked her legs to the side so she wouldn’t kick him on accident, pulled up something on her computer that could look like work – she googled Wikipedia and opened the first page that seemed interesting – and then opened the website she and Tim had been looking at houses on. The logistics of buying a house were still a bit weird, she thought, and then realized something.

“Hey, Jon?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“Could Helen help us get a house?”

“Oh! Probably? She certainly knows more than the rest of us do, at least,” he replied. “We could ask her, after this.”

“Tim might think of that while they’re both hanging out in the People Containment Room, actually.”

“I- People- Sasha.”

“Well, I mean it was containing Martin for a bit, and now it’s containing Helen and Tim, yeah?”

“That doesn’t sound right, though.”

“Thoughts on this house?” she asked, not bothering to move her monitor so it’d be visible from underneath her desk.

“I feel like we should at least get nicer looking walls with our budget,” he replied.

“We could paint them.”

“But if we could just spend more of Jonah’s money and _not_ have to do that, I think that’d be nice.”

“But we’re going to decorate the place ourselves, right?”

“I mean- yeah. I guess. No garden, though.”

“Oh yeah, almost forgot about that. We need the pretty flowers for the pretty Martin.”

Jon mumbled something under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?” Sasha said, fairly confident she knew exactly what he’d said.

He looked up at her pleadingly, as if that would convince her to drop it. She looked back, smug. He sighed. “I don’t think there are flowers that pretty. _Please_ don’t make a thing of this, Sasha. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable or anything. I know he’s not the Martin from my timeline and we don’t have that sort of relationship here and I’m _happy_ to be friends with him- ”

“But just to be clear, you _do_ have a crush on him? On this Martin? The one in the other room?” Jon panicked so badly Sasha could physically feel it. “No no no, don’t worry, I’m not about to tell him or anything. It’s just, he was just talking to me about how _sad_ he was because you just wanted to be _friends_ and how there was no way you were going to fall in love with _him_ when you were still mourning _your_ Martin and I told him to talk to you but I don’t think he’s going to. So. I am begging you. Please ask him on a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sasha, listening to jon talk about how hes in love with martin but totally understands that martin doesnt feel that way about him and he doesnt want to ruin their friendship by making it weird or anything: you guys. are so dumb. how do i lend my braincells to people you need them more than me right now


	26. who needs the web when you have martin kartin blackwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i died for like a month there i have no explanation. anyways dont pay attention to timelines and shit im absolutely bullshitting here

Jonah Magnus was willing to admit, at least to himself, that he was pretty much grasping at straws by the time Basira Hussain showed up. His plans weren’t over, not necessarily, and he might not even need to wait for a new Archivist to try again, but there were a good few significant variables involved that he simply could not See and it was immensely frustrating to put up with.

His Archivist had aligned herself with the Eye creature – Eye avatar? – he could tell that much, but, as with anything involving the Eye… being, he struggled to get any amount of useful information. It was, quite frankly, incredibly unfair, considering his dedicated service to the Eye for a solid two hundred years, compared to the being’s having only had any noticeable connection for around five, maybe six years, as far as he could tell.

He’d been able to See his Archivist with relative clarity during Prentiss’ attack, and her powers had been developing nicely _and_ she’d been marked by one of Prentiss’ worms, but afterwards… Nothing much of note, outside of a short conversation with Annabelle Cane that he hadn’t been able to make out the details of. The spiders did tend to like their privacy, and, unfortunately, he wasn’t in a position to be making those sorts of enemies. Getting a Web mark would be hard enough without giving the Web a reason to actively oppose him. At least until then, he’d have to work to ensure their assistance.

The not them, though, had him on edge. He couldn’t Know what had been done to it outside of Rosie’s recollection of events, and her memories did not clarify much. They showed his Archivist’s alliance with the Eye being, yes, but he’d put that together on his own. The power they’d shown the being wielding was a shock – the being had power beyond what he’d even thought possible – but had _nothing_ on how that power had been acquired or on the specifics of how it worked. He couldn’t even tell if his Archivist had been marked by the Stranger or not!

All of that was to say that Basira Hussain presented an opportunity that he was sorely grateful for. Investigating the Archives himself was a risk with the amount of unknowns currently hanging around down there – and in a place of the Eye, too! – but here was someone who investigated secrets for a living offering to go find out whatever she could and then to take that information out where he could safely acquire it. The only thing he really had to consider was how to guide her towards finding the answers he wanted for him.

-

The Head of the Magnus Institute was a creepy little man, but Basira didn’t think much of it. It was pretty clear to her that he was in over his head – a civilian trying to deal with sectioned problems that he had minimal at _best_ qualifications for. The chaos the Magnus Archives were known for by sectioned officers was generally constrained to the Archives (and occasionally Artefact Storage, but they were generally better about containing their bullshit) and, as bad as it had been during Gertrude’s tenure, it had apparently been getting worse.

Bouchard had openly admitted to being in charge of the Archives pretty much in name only, unable to do anything about the staff of the Archives straying far outside of their actual roles at archiving and preserving information. She felt a little bad for him, but his inability to control his own institute wasn’t really her problem and he could deal with that or not on his own.

What had been useful, though, was the vague description of the ‘man’ who didn’t actually work at the Institute he’d seen the people in the Archives speaking with. The description wasn’t much to go on, and Bouchard hadn’t actually been able to specify anything helpful about the conversations, like what was said, or even what sort of relationship the Archives even _had_ with it.

Even still, it was hard to imagine that they weren’t at least partially complicit.

They had to have at least _some_ knowledge of the supernatural, with their jobs, and Bouchard had made it sound like they were involved in _something_ \- whether or not they had invited the monster in with a specific knowledge of what it was, the more Basira thought about it, the more likely it seemed that they had to be at least partially aware of what they were dealing with. Whether they were guilty of anything remained to be seen, but, unless she found out that they were genuinely unaware of what was happening, Basira figured she’d be investigating them as well.

-

Martin decided that he’d have to improvise not because he thought it would work but because he heard Basira’s footsteps on the stairs and still didn’t have a plan.

When she entered the Archives and introduced herself, she was polite and vaguely amiable, but he knew how to recognize a fake smile. Sasha had warned him that Basira had to have talked to Elias – Basira had been down to the Archives while they were out on break, Sasha had Known, and she would have had to get permission. She’d probably just talked to him again, Martin figured, considering the time between when Jon had said she’d arrive and the time she’d actually showed up.

He felt a little guilty for barely even considering trying to speak in Jon’s defense, to try and convince her he wasn’t who she thought he was, but he didn’t think he had any chance of getting anywhere except jail with that sort of argument. Instead, he decided he’d agree with her about the “monster” being a “threat”, and hope that by giving the Archives a goal that aligned with hers, she’d trust them enough that they’d be able to help her and that she wouldn’t be as much of a danger.

-

“Hello,” Basira said, wiping her suspicions off her face and falling back on the professional sort of tone she used talking to witnesses.

“Hi!” A man responded, looking up from his mess of a desk. “You’re Basira, then? I’m Martin Blackwood. What’re you looking for?”

He stood up, and Basira felt a bit irritated at the realization that he was taller than Daisy. He was so unthreatening compared to Daisy – compared to how Daisy _had_ been – and Basira was, for a second, mad at him for not using his height like Daisy. For Daisy being the one shattered and broken, while this man was still happy and smiling. She brushed it away. That wasn’t useful.

“Yes. I’m doing research for a case, actually.”

“Oh! I’d be happy to help. The Archives are a bit of a mess right now, but if you have something specific you’re looking for, I can probably track down something that could be relevant for you?”

“Eyes.”

“… Do you have… anything more specific?” Blackwood asked, looking concerned at the prospect of having to dig up everything the Magnus Archives might have on eyes.

It occurred to Basira that even if the Archives staff were involved in something, that didn’t mean that every member of the staff would be involved. She shook her head. “No, there’s a monster in in a case I’m on. It has too many, sometimes. Even if it doesn’t, it watches people, knows things it shouldn’t.”

“Oh,” Blackwood said. “Him.”

-

Martin was sorely tempted to try and punch Basira, even knowing that he probably wouldn’t achieve much of anything. He wasn’t going to, because it _wouldn’t_ achieve anything, but her refusal to even talk about Jon like a _person,_ was really testing his patience. Even if he was pretending that Jon really was a horrible monster, though, he didn’t think it would hurt that much to at least call Jon a person. She’d probably chalk it up to naivety, and he wouldn’t have to talk about Jon as something less than human.

So, he painted an expression of fear and determination across his face (both emotions true, but in the wrong context) and said he knew her monster.

-

Basira narrowed her eyes. Blackwood didn’t seem happy about knowing the monster, but he _did_ know it. This could be useful, or he could be compromised. He didn’t _seem_ happy about it, so she probably wouldn’t have to worry about him lying to protect it, but if it had something on him – which it probably would, considering how it worked – he might not be a reliable source of information.

“How do you know it?”

“He… comes here, sometimes. We think he just wants information from statements, and, well. We’re an _Archive._ The whole thing with Prentiss was a _mess,_ someone could’ve _died!_ We have so much information that could be used to help – so many stories of terrible things happening to people, _surely_ there’s a way to use those stories to help people – but, well, we’re just us.” Blackwood sighed. He looked completely exhausted. “We can barely even keep ourselves alive. I heard Gertrude did more, but she’s missing, probably dead. With everything she was caught up in, it sounds like a miracle she lived as long as she did. I don’t think we have any hope of even _trying_ to match her.”

Blackwood shook his head, probably in an attempt to do something about his mood. “But!” he said, clapping his hands together. “You’re here for information. That, we can do. Anything else, or do you just want what we have about the eye man?”

-

Basira left the Institute with a lot to think about. An unfortunately small amount of material in the Archives could be said with _confidence_ to be about the eye monster, but they had a lot about situations that seemed at least similar. The more interesting information hadn’t even come from any of the statements, but rather from Blackwood’s attempts to fill the silence with small talk.

He shared her weird feeling about the Head of the Institute, adding that the Archives staff had figured out after Prentiss that none of them, no matter how hard they tried, could actually follow through on the steps necessary to quit. Bouchard hadn’t commented on it, and they hadn’t brought it up with him, but they were wondering whether that was his fault somehow. He gave them the same impression that he had given her – that of someone who isn’t really involved in the supernatural – but they were beginning to wonder if that was the truth. They’d put together that Gertrude Robinson had been immensely suspicious of the man, and she’d apparently been a lot more competent that Basira had initially assumed.

The Archives staff had also figured out that Robinson’s similarity to the eye monster and her position could be related – they were all worried about James, but with limited information and no way to quit, there wasn’t much they could do. They were keeping an eye on her, and she was trying to figure out what specifically would make her less human and if there was anything she could do, so there was a chance Basira could leave that potential problem to them and assume they’d get her if it turned into something they couldn’t handle, but Basira still wanted to talk to James and Stoker before drawing any conclusions. There was every chance that Blackwood was just naive, or being fooled.

From what she’d seen, Bouchard’s suspicion of the Archives was at best a misunderstanding of what his staff were actually doing, but she wasn’t generally a generous person and it seemed to her like he’d been trying to turn her against them. Blackwood at least was genuinely struggling to help, and he seemed to think the other members of the Archives were doing the same. Basira wanted to see that for herself, but so far, it seemed like they could be a useful source of information. It would certainly be easier than trying to research supernatural monsters on her own, and Blackwood wanted to help.

There was still the worry of what the eye monster was doing in the Archives, but at least its occasional presence meant it would be easier for her to find it – if not at the Archives, then she’d at least have a start to her trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin Blackwood: If someones afraid theyre being manipulated then they have to have reasons to believe they might be being manipulated. So, no, I wouldn’t suit the web very well. I’m too competent.


	27. are they… you know… [fabric rustling sounds]

Jon procrastinated leaving Sasha’s office after Basira left, telling himself and Sasha that he was comfortable and didn’t want to move. Unfortunately, this just resulted in her kicking him until he gave up and went out.

Martin looked up with a start as Jon opened the door out of Sasha’s office.

“Ah, I- ” Jon began.

“I’m sor- ” Martin said, at the same time.

They both paused. Jon nodded for Martin to go first, trying to avoid the conversation he was supposed to be having.

“I’m _so_ sorry, I- Basira- ”

“Martin, calm down. Wh- Are- ” Jon sighed, giving up. Martin was smart. He could figure out what Jon was trying to say.

“She thinks you’re a monster and not even a _person_ and I didn’t do _anything,_ I acted like I _agreed_ with her, but you’re _not-_ ”

“Martin, good lord, please slow down. To be clear- what you’re trying to apologize for is not arguing with Basira about whether or not I’m a monster. Basira, the person who poses a fair amount of danger to you and who you need to convince to be on your side. You’ll have to tell me if I’m wrong. But, as I see it, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I- ”

“I suspect – correct me if I’m wrong – that you didn’t have any way to actually convince her, and that any argument would have just endangered you and Tim and Sasha.” Jon raised an eyebrow.

Martin paused with his mouth still open, clearly looking for something to say.

“I- yeah. Thanks, Jon. What were you going to say? Or were you just coming out to stretch your legs?”

However tempting it was to agree with the second question, he could quite literally feel Sasha glaring at him.

“I had something to talk about, yeah. Ah, Sasha mentioned- well, I- ” Jon sighed. “I think there’s been, well, a bit of a misunderstanding? I mean, I don’t want to make things weird, or, well.”

He could feel Martin getting progressively more worried, and that was what finally got him over his worries enough to keep speaking. There was a lot Jon would be willing to go through to keep Martin safe – either one – and in that light, this really wasn’t that hard to deal with.

“I love you. Or, at least, I have a crush on you? You, specifically. I’ve never really been good at figuring these things out. I know, how weird this is, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and- ”

Martin’s face was beet red. Jon cut himself off and decided to stare at the wall. Once he’d said his piece, the worry had all come back. He could Know how Martin felt, answer his own question and put an end to the _waiting,_ but, no. He was not going to do that, and he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, staring at the wall awkwardly, consumed by both a desperate desire to hear what Martin would say and a similarly desperate, if slightly weaker, desire to have the entire conversation turn out to be a dream and actually it never happened.

Martin cleared his throat.

-

Martin was no longer in his body. He was no longer in the solar system. Martin Blackwood did not exist. Everything had to have been a fever dream of some person who wasn’t him, because this was not reality. Clearly not.

He was thinking every single word in his vocabulary simultaneously, but none of them were connected. He was thinking absolutely nothing and if he could manage even one word he’d have heard it echo. His brain had been replaced with a solid object with no nerves to hold thoughts along their reaching branches. His brain was leaking out his ears and sloshing around in his skull like a half-full glass.

Jon probably expected an answer.

Those had words in them.

Words, in order.

Answer.

“I thought you were in love with Martin?”

Excellent. Wait, no. Not excellent. Martin, _why?_

He sat there a second, trying to think and failing miserably, before registering that Jon was saying something. Jon would want another answer, wouldn’t he? Martin barely managed the first answer. He should listen, he needed to listen. He wouldn’t hear what Jon said, and then he wouldn’t have an answer, and he wouldn’t be able to-

Jon wouldn’t mind, would he? He’d repeat himself, instead. For Martin. He’d been accepting when Martin would mess up until then, after all. He’d know Martin hadn’t meant to be disrespectful, hadn’t meant to cause problems.

Martin bit his lip for a second, then asked, “Sorry, what?”

Jon blinked and stopped talking, but he didn’t look irritated or upset. He smiled, and it wasn’t fake. “I- I am, yes. I love him. It’s just, I love you, too? That’s the more compact version of what I was trying to say, at least. I figured I’d save you the misery of listening to the first draft of that answer. It wasn’t- well, it was the same thing, except longer, and more confusing, and worse. It really- I’m rambling again. To summarize. I love him. I love you. I love both of you. Is that- I just thought you should know.”

“Oh,” Martin squeaked.”I, like you, too? Not as a friend- I mean, I do like you as a friend- I mean, you’re a good friend. To have. But I. Um. Are you _sure?_ ”

“Yes,” Jon said, with no hesitation, as if that would help Martin’s mental state at all.

“Oh,” Martin said again. “I- thanks? Wait, no- I mean, not no _thanks,_ it’s just- ”

Martin looked directly at Jon for the first time, saw the smile on his face, and immediately lost the ability to speak. Jon looked so goddamn _pretty._ Convincing Basira suddenly didn’t seem so hard, because there was no way she could look at Jon and still think he was a monster.

Jon’s smile shrank to something more worried, and Martin sort of wanted to cry. Oh yeah, he still hadn’t answered Jon. Oh _no,_ he was the cause of Jon being less happy. He had to _do_ something. What could he do? Answer, right. Answer what, though? Oh, right. Oh dear.

“Ah,” he tried. “you too?”

Jon looked confused. What had he said? Right. Martin, that didn’t make sense. Make sense, Martin.

“I feel. Like that. Except about you. Yeah. So, the reverse. But not emotionally. I mean, yes emotionally! But not the reverse emotion. The same emotion, the reverse direction. From me to you. Like that.”

Jon grinned, so clearly he’d gotten the message. Good, because Martin still wasn’t sure he had. At least one of them had it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be more daisy!! soon!! because i love her!!
> 
> also  
> 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209 – I can remember 56 digits of pi apparently. unless any of these arent right. then I cant remember 56 digits of pi.


	28. I Survived Finals And All I Got Was A Worse Sleep Schedule Than Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up folks im here im queer im taking notes on my own fic because i forgot the plot whoops  
> important updates in my life: im still a mess but now im a mess with bunny slippers. on with the fic!

Daisy’s legs felt weak as she walked towards the Magnus Institute, but she knew inside that all the weakness would drain away almost immediately if she would just start down the path the blood laid out in front of her. It would be so easy – she wouldn’t even have to physically turn, just step into the chase, into who she was-

Who she had been. She was trying not to be that person anymore. That was important.

The eye man was watching her. It felt like – it wasn’t judgmental. Accountability, maybe.

Her instincts said to smile, to show teeth, to let him know she was coming for him. He would be afraid, she could feel. He was resilient. It would be a good chase.

She didn’t.

Someone else was watching, the way someone might watch a dogfight. Anticipation and hunger.

Daisy grit her teeth and walked slowly up the stairs and in through the main entrance to the Magnus Institute. She would talk to people, and get answers through a conversation with words, and then leave.

Basira had been there recently – Daisy could smell her. Normally it would be a comfort, an echo of her partner’s presence. Now it was a reminder of the hunt that was calling to her, the chase she craved. She bit back a surge of anger – Basira was her _partner,_ this wasn’t on purpose. Basira wasn’t trying to impede her, wasn’t turning against her. Basira was trying to help. It wasn’t her fault.

Daisy could remember that.

She wanted to march downstairs to where she knew answers were, to ignore whatever else might slow her down.

She didn’t want to be that person.

Instead, she successfully didn’t growl at the woman at the front desk who made her fill out an assortment of paperwork, though she did lie about what she was there for. They didn’t seem like the place to have a form for people who are just there for answers, except maybe a hiring form. Either way, it wasn’t the woman’s fault it was taking Daisy longer to get her answers, and she could be polite. She _would_ be polite.

-

Jon ducked his head into Martin’s chest a bit so Martin could see his desk rather than getting out of Martin’s lap, but it wasn’t like Martin was actually focusing on his work much either. The only reason they were sat at Martin’s desk in the first place was because Sasha had threatened to start throwing things if they didn’t stop being sappy and get some work done.

She’d probably have gotten fed up with them anyways – it wasn’t like they were actually _doing_ any work – but that was when Tim came back with Helen, pulling her along excitedly.

“– because I haven’t had much time to look into it with everything going on, you know, but buying a house is already complicated enough but it’s _worse_ if you’re doing something society doesn’t expect, and I was hoping- hey, guys! Did you finally _talk_ to each other? We’ll distract Sasha, have fun!” He tugged Helen into Sasha’s office with a wink, closing the door behind them.

Jon and Martin sat in peaceful silence for a couple minutes, before Jon abruptly sat up, bumping his head into Martin’s chin in the process. “Someone’s here to make a st- oh. Huh.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Daisy,” Jon said, blinking. “She’s not actually here to make a statement.”

“Daisy’s the one who _attacked_ you right?” Martin asked. “We should- we should go to the tunnels, it’ll be safer there. Is Sasha in d- ”

“No.” Jon shook his head slowly. “She isn’t Hunting. She hasn’t been, for… a while, actually. I’ll talk to her.”

“You _will?_ ” Martin demanded, shifting so he could look directly into Jon’s eyes.

“Yes. I will be safe, I promise.”

“And I’ll be there to make sure of that. Is she coming down here?”

Jon couldn’t help but smile at that, at the warm thought that Martin had his back, that Martin would face someone he saw as a threat for Jon. Daisy wouldn’t be a threat, or at least Jon very much did not expect her to be one, so there was no reason to argue over Martin’s presence.

-

“Daisy Tonner?”

The monster- no. The man’s voice. Convenient that he was here – less work for her. She gritted her teeth and shook her head to get rid of the howling for his blood that had bled through her control at the sound of his voice.

“’Sira’s right about one thing, I see,” she managed, baring her teeth in what was hopefully a friendly smile. She hadn’t done that in a while. She hoped she hadn’t forgotten. Judging by the expression of the man who wasn’t the eye man, though, she’d missed the mark. The eye man just smiled softly at the man whose lap he was still sitting in.

“Not right about much else,” the soft man muttered bitterly. The eye man gave him another fond look before looking up at her with a small smile – a proper friendly smile, probably.

“You’ve not been Hunting,” he said, and it had none of the force his voice had last time they’d spoken.

“No,” she replied.

“Are- ” the eye man started, before pausing. Shaking his head slightly. “If you’re here with questions, I’ll answer what I can.”

Part of her wanted to push, to find out what he’d cut himself off from asking. Search for weaknesses. This was trust, though, and more than she wanted to push, she wanted to earn that trust, so she wouldn’t. What to ask, though? She wanted answers, yes, but answers to what specifically? Where to _start?_

Well, she figured, she could start with the easy questions and hope she figured it out while she spoke.

“What’s your name?”

He blinked. “Oh, sorry- I’m Jon. Jonathan Sims. This is Martin.”

-

The eye man was Jon, and the soft man was Martin. Jon – Sims? No, Jon – was an avatar of the Eye, which was how they sorted the types of spooky shit. Daisy was… connected to the Hunt. The blood she heard constantly calling to her was the Hunt, demanding to be fed. Jon had something similar, behind the questions he kept biting back.

None of that felt like the answer she’d come here looking for, though.

“How do you…” she finally tried, trailing off in frustrated confusion. Jon looked back at her, curious in a way that felt like a threat and patient in a way that felt like a reassurance. Instead of finishing her question, she just waved a hand vaguely towards him.

He looked like he got was she was asking, even if she didn’t. “You just… do your best, I guess. And find people who’ll help you remember why you’re trying in the first place.”

“But how do you do _that?_ ”

Jon shrugged, a little helplessly. “Luck? I don’t… I’m not great with people, honestly.”

Daisy hesitated, before nodding. “Thanks.”

“Good luck,” he said, as she turned to leave. She tried smiling back. That try felt more successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisy: [tries to be friendly]  
> Martin: jon she’s going to kiLL US BOTH  
> Jon: no don’t worry she’s just like that
> 
> meanwhile, in sashas office  
> sasha: oh the hunter who attacked jon is here  
> tim, already holding an axe: do we… do anything??  
> sasha: tim where did you get that there wasnt an axe in here  
> helen: what the FUCK is going on

**Author's Note:**

> HOW DO I WRITE DIALOGUE HELP ME  
> Please feel free to comment with words or just some random letters!  
> Or some ideas! I don’t know what I’m doing!


End file.
